


Life After Death

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Dean, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bucket List, Castiel's First Kiss, Charlie Ships It, Coming Out, Drunken Kissing, First Date, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Sam Ships It, Sexual Tension, Skinny Dipping, Slow Burn, Tattoos, UST, Underage Drinking, Virgin Castiel, all of the first times, cas thinks he's straight, gabriel is an accidental cockblock, it's not platonic, lol that's a lie, not too much though, semi-platonic bed sharing, tattooed Jess, the poor dear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 69,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Collins is nineteen when he dies.<br/>Nineteen when he's resuscitated.<br/>Nineteen when he realizes that he has to start living.<br/><br/><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> A big huge thanks to [toriftw](http://toriftw.tumblr.com/) and Dash for beta reading this first chapter for me!

Castiel Collins has died. It's unfortunate, and a bit traumatic, but also unavoidable. It's what happens when a very large pickup truck runs a red-light at seventy miles per hour and smashes into a very small two door car that you happen to be riding in.

Now he's sitting alone on a hospital bed, white sheets bunched up around his legs, because visiting hours are over now, and his family has gone home. They didn't want to leave, but Castiel needs some time to think.

His heart had stopped, his mother had told him, bawling. His heart had stopped and he'd been officially dead for several minutes. The doctors didn't give up on him though, and they managed to revive him. A miracle, his mother said.

A miracle. Isn't that funny?

Well, not so funny.

A week ago, hell, a _day_ ago, Castiel would have agreed. A miracle. The Lord at work, saving the life of one of his children. Now? He's not so sure. 

Because here's the thing: he kind of doesn't feel like he came back. He sort of still feels dead. He's got this hollow ache in his chest, this tiredness in his limbs. At first he felt numb but for the last few hours every moment has been a struggle to keep himself from crying.

He's lucky, he knows he's lucky. Aside from heart failure he's only suffered a moderate concussion and one broken wrist, and that's a lot less than a lot of people. It's less than his cousin Balthazar, who had been driving the car and now has two broken legs and several cracked ribs. He's lucky.

He doesn't feel lucky. He should be dead right now. He  _would_ be dead right now if not for some extraordinary, unknown stroke of luck, and that knowledge has him reeling. 

He doesn't remember anything from when he was dead, either. Nothing. Just blackness. Just... just nothing. No pearly gates. No singing angels. And what does that mean? One of the first things his mother had asked him once he'd re-woken was if he'd seen heaven.

What's he supposed to say to that? Is he supposed to tell his mother that all he saw was a void? That he felt nothing? That he feels, suddenly, as if everything he ever believed was a lie? No, of course he can't tell her that. So he'd just pretended to be a little more dazed than he was, and had avoided her question.

Another thing is, he remembers the accident. Vividly. He remembers seeing the other car run the red light. He remembers shouting to Balthazar. He remembers panic, the most blinding fear he's ever felt. And he remembers thinking,  _No, I can't go. I haven’t done anything_ .

Surprisingly it's this thought, more than anything else, that has him finally breaking down. He lets everything wash over him, there in his empty hospital room, and he sobs into the crook of his good arm.

He cries because his whole life has been based on a fallacy, on the thought that if he was good, if he was devout and selfless and did as he was told, everything would be okay. But everything isn’t okay.

He's nineteen years old, and he's never tried alcohol, never been to a party, never been kissed, never even broken curfew. He's officially an adult and he missed most of his childhood because he was too busy being  _good_ . He just  _died_ , and he's never even been out of the darn state. The  _damn_ state! He can curse if he wants to! His parents aren't around to scold him, and he longer believes in some omniscient cosmic deity that will punish him for it, so why shouldn't he?

“Fuck.” He says aloud to the darkened room.

_Wow_ , he thinks to himself,  _jumping straight to ten._

Well, he's never been one to do things by halves.

He cries himself to sleep.

 

-o-

 

The next morning, before visiting hours, he sneaks out of his room and goes to visit Balthazar down the hall. It seems like Castiel's cousin was unlucky in rooming as well as health. He's sharing his room with what seems to be an elderly goblin. Castiel doesn't even stop the thought, even though it's mean, what does it matter anymore?

Castiel sits down in the chair next to his still-sleeping cousin's bed, and pokes him hard in the side of the stomach.

“Bal,” He hisses. “Bal, wake up!”

Balthazar groans and turns his head away, but otherwise remains unmoved.

Castiel pokes him in the side of the face this time.

“Come on, wake up!”

Balthazar growls loudly. “I am not on near enough pain medication for this.”

“Are you awake?”

Balthazar reaches up to yank the pillow out from under his head, and then promptly stuff it over his face. “Well I bloody well am now!” Comes his muffled voice.

“Bal, I think I'm having a crisis.” Castiel tells him.

Balthazar groans again, but after a minute to gather his patience he pulls the pillow down to his chest and blinks blearily up at his cousin.

“What are you talking about?”

Castiel licks his lips, lets out a breath. “I died.” He says.

“I heard.” Balthazar says, eyes softening. “Are you alright?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No. No, I'm not. I- I don't know what to think anymore, Bal. I just don't know. When I woke up my mom asked me if I saw heaven and I  _didn’t_ , I saw nothing! Bal, there was nothing! And I- I haven’t ever even been on a motorcycle or smoked a cigarette or- or been in a fight, because I thought I had to be good, and now it turns out I didn't! I wasted nineteen years of my life, Bal! I've never done anything!”

He looks down at his hands, and when he looks up again, he finds his cousin staring at him.

“So...” He says after a while. “Does this mean I can curse around you now?”

“What?” Castiel asks, bewildered.

“Well I always thought you'd get all preachy if I cussed around you, but now that you're having this crisis of faith it's probably alright, yeah?”

“You curse?” Castiel asks.

Balthazar laughs. “As much as I possibly can.”

“Do your parents know?” Balthazar's parents are just as religious as Castiel's, and he doubts they'd look kindly on their child cursing.

Balthazar shrugs. “You could fill a bloody library with the things my parents don't know. Oblivious fucking idiots.”

Castiel starts a little at the curse. It's odd, hearing someone else curse. Honestly, he doesn't really know anyone who does. His parents don't, his aunts and uncles don't, the cousins that he's allowed to hang out with don't (well, apparently Balthazar secretly does). He went to a Christian school, and there was no cursing allowed there. He graduated this year, and has yet to decide what he's doing for college, so he hasn't been exposed to that particular bed of sin yet. Otherwise, he pretty much only goes to the library and church anymore.

“Hmm.” He says, sitting back in his chair. “What do I do?”

Balthazar shakes his head. “I can't tell you how to live your life, man.”

Castiel slumps forward, resting his face in his hand. “I can't talk to my parents about this, Bal. I don't know what to do. I can't- I can't just keep on... living like I have been. Everything is so messed up all of a sudden and I don't-” He trails off, scrubs at his eye with the heel of his hand. “I just don't know.” He whispers.

Balthazar purses his lips. “You just... you just need to live a little, alright? I know, it sounds like bullshit advice, but i'm serious. Go out. Smoke a joint. Get laid. _Do_ some things. That's what this is about, right? That you've never done anything? Well. Go do stuff.”

Castiel gives him a frustrated look. “It's not that easy, Bal.”

“Isn't it?”

“No!” Castiel huffs. “I need...” He sighs. “I need help. Friends. Which I don't have.”

“What about, uh, the kid. That one you were always hanging around in school? You know, with the dorky haircut?”

“Cam?” Castiel guesses, naming off a high-school acquaintance. “I wouldn't really call him a friend. Anyway we haven’t spoken since graduation.”

“Hmm.” Says Balthazar. “What about...” He thinks for a moment, then snaps his fingers. “That girl! Uh, Heather? Holly? H-ham...fist?”

“Hannah?”

“That's the one! I thought she had a thing for you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I think she did, but I wasn't really interested in her that way. Anyway, we weren't really close either.”

Balthazar sighs and lays his head back onto his pillows. “Don't you have _any_ friends?”

Castiel starts to shake his head, but then an image flits through his mind's eye. A face. A wide smile and shaggy brown hair.

“Well...” He says slowly. “There's this boy.”

Balthazar sits back up, interested again. “Do tell.”

“His name is Sam. He's always in Habridge Library, and we talk sometimes. We get along well, I enjoy talking to him. I think... I think we could be friends. I'd like to think we are. I don't know.” He sighs. “I'm not good at making friends, Bal.”

“You just need to find common ground.”  
“I don't have common ground with anyone! I'm too- too weird and too quiet and just... too me.”

“Cassie,” Balthazar says, voice soft with sympathy. “Don't do this to yourself. Don't beat yourself up. And don't give me that look, I know how you are. You just need to break the ice a little, get to talking. Once you start i'm sure you'll find common ground. I know it's hard for you, but try, okay?”

“It won't work.”

“Just promise you'll try. This can be your first step toward something different. Toward changing things. You want to change things, don't you? You want to have experiences.”  
“Yes.” Castiel whispers.

“So?”

“So i'll try.”

 

-o-

 

They release Castiel after a couple days. Balthazar gets to go home too, but he's confined to a wheelchair, to his chagrin. There's a lot of muttered cursing coming from his end.

Things sort of... go back to normal. For everyone else, anyway. For Castiel's parents, his aunts and uncles, the people on the street, everything is the same. It's surreal. For some reason, he sort of expected the world to have changed with his epiphany. But it didn't. He's the only one who's changed.

And he can't seem to follow Balthazar's advice. As much as he might want to have new experiences, he doesn't know how to take that first step on his own.

So he goes through the motions. He gets up and does the same things as always. He talks to his parents, he reads, he goes for walks, he goes to the library, he goes to church. No one seems to notice that anything is different. No one notices that he doesn't read his bible anymore, but instead reads science fiction that he has secreted away in his desk. No one sees the way his eyes go blank at church, he doesn't really listen to the sermons, all the words seem so hollow. Nothing changes.

Castiel goes to the library a week after he gets out of the hospital. He walks through the glass doors and immediately feels better, the smell of binding glue and the sounds of numerous pages turning in unison filling him with an unexplainable calm. He curses himself for not doing this earlier, it seems stupid now.

“I'm back.” He whispers, partially to the books, partially to himself. He closes his eyes for a moment, flexes his fingers. Here, he feels none of the confusion or doubt that has plagued him since the accident.

At home he feels jittery and anxious. He's constantly thinking, thinking too much. He's taken to avoiding his parents, because he doesn't know how he feels about anything anymore, especially not faith, and their constant talk of God and miracles is suddenly grating. What sounded like like truth before is starting to sound like babble.

But here, everything is okay. Here he's whole. No one here knows that he died last week. Walking into the library feels like coming home in a way that going back to his house never has.

He opens his eyes again, and the world is gray for a moment. He exhales, and waves to the girl at the checkout desk.

“Hey, Castiel!” She says. “Long time no see.”

“I was sick.” Castiel tells her shortly.

“Well I’m glad you're better!” She says earnestly.

The girl's name-tag says Charlie, and she always greets Castiel by name. They exchange pleasantries, occasionally make smalltalk. Maybe she could be a friend. He dismisses the thought almost as soon as it crosses his mind. She's a clerk, of course she's only being polite because she has to.

He turns away from the counter and makes his way through the stacks. Nothing he normally reads grabs his attention though, and he passes the books with barely a glance. There are little alcoves tucked into the walls behind some of the stacks, bubbles of peace and tranquility with comfy overstuffed arm chairs. He spots Sam sitting in one of the alcoves, head bent over a book. There's an empty chair next him, and Castiel takes it. This is the first step, he tells himself. He can do this.

“Hello, Sam.” He says, heart pounding. Honestly, he's not even sure why he's so nervous. Talking to someone, anyone, is such an anxiety inducing affair and he doesn't even know why. But he's taking a leap.

Sam looks up, surprised. “Hey, Castiel!” He says, brushing his sandy hair back from his face. “How are you? What happened to your hand?” He nods at the cast on Castiel's wrist.  
Small-talk. Right. Castiel can do small-talk. Except he doesn’t want to. Small-talk is cold, empty, and it always comes out sounding forced when Castiel tries it. And that's not the way to make friends, is it? Well, how would he know? In any case, small-talk isn't what comes out of Castiel's mouth. No pleasantries. He goes for big talk.

“I died.” He says.

Sam blinks. “What?”

“I- uh, I was in a car accident, on Thursday. It wasn't too bad but, uh, my heart stopped. They restarted it, woke me back up. But yeah. I was technically dead. And, um, I broke my wrist.” He holds up his hand for examination.

Sam is staring at him, wide eyed. “Shit, man.”

“Yeah.”

“Guessed that's why you missed book club.”

Castiel nods. He would never miss otherwise. The library book club is the one “secular” activity his parents allowed him, secular in that the books they read aren't strictly religious. They read everything from classics to the newest young adult fiction, and it has been a balm for Castiel's soul for years now.

“Wow.” Says Sam. “One time I choked on a chicken nugget. My brother had to give me the heimlich. But, uh, I guess that's not exactly the same...”

It is not exactly the same. It's not the same at all. It is, however, the perfect thing to say. It's so odd, and Sam looks so awkward, that Castiel can't help but laugh. And laugh, and laugh. He laughs until his sides hurt and his eyes water. When he finally stops, winding down slowly, trying to catch his breath, he finds Sam staring at him with a somewhat frightened look on his face.

“You've lost it.” Says Sam.

Castiel manages a few more feeble chuckles before sobering. “I have,” He says, with a dawning sense of finality. “definitely lost something.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and plants his face in his palms. Because having mental breakdowns in public is something he does now.

“You're... not okay, are you?” Sam's voice comes filtering in through the haze of Castiel's sudden despair.

“What's your last name?” Castiel asks.

“Uh, Winchester.”

“Sam Winchester. I am not okay.” He confirms.

Sam just watches him for a while, looking a little worried.

“Sorry.” Castiel says, after some time. “I've been a little,” He wiggles his hand by the side of his head. “weird lately.”

“Dying will do that to you.” He frowns. “I mean, I assume. Maybe. It would, right? I feel like dying would mess with your head.”

“It certainly has mine.” Castiel admits.

Sam taps the cover of his book, long since abandoned in his lap. “You wanna talk about it?”

Castiel shrugs. “I just... I died. And I realized that i've never done anything.”

“I'm sure you've done _some_ things.”

“I've never seen an “R” rated movie.”

“Oh.”

“I'm nineteen years old. I've never been on a roller coaster.”

“You've... How have you never been on a roller coaster?”

“That's just... how my life has been.” Castiel tries to explain. “And I am so, so tired of it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Makes sense.”

Castiel sits back in his chair, trying to relax his shoulders. “I apologize. I don't usually talk this much.”

“No, no that's fine!” Sam says quickly. “This is like the most I’ve ever heard you talk. You're usually very, you know, stoic.”

“Well that's the nicest I’ve ever had it put.”

And then, they continue to talk. Instead of petering out and ending awkwardly like the majority of Castiel's conversations do, it keeps going. And it's not bad. It's not strained. Castiel finds that Sam Winchester is surprisingly easy to talk to, which isn't something he can say about very many people in his life. They talk until Castiel checks his phone and realizes and realizes that they've been sitting here for two hours. He's been having an actual conversation for two hours.

“Hey, Sam!” A voice cuts through the library, it's followed immediately by shushing, which goes unheeded.

Both boys look up to see a man striding toward them.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam says as the man draws up close to them. “Um, Castiel, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is my friend Castiel.”

“Hey.” Says Dean.

“Nice to, uh, meet you.” Castiel replies, unable to meet the newcomer's eye. Because he is, absolutely, one of the most handsome people Castiel has ever seen.

“You ready to go?” Dean asks Sam.

“Yeah, yeah. Just, uh,” He turns back to Castiel. “Do you, like, want my number? We can talk.”

“Oh, yes!” Castiel says, trying to tamper his excitement. This is what making a friend feels like. He hands over his phone and lets Sam put his number in.

“Alright!” Sam says, handing his phone back. “Text me.” He waves and follows his brother out of the library.

 

-o-

Castiel texts Sam the next day. He's not sure what the protocol for texting friends is, if there's an amount of time you should wait before texting them. He's never had a friend give him their number before. Well, he has the numbers of a few classmates that he had projects with back in highschool, but they're not really for keeping in touch.

He agonizes over what to say for a long time, and he almost doesn't text at all, but ultimately he does. He wants a friend, and Sam seems be exactly that.

 

**[Sent]**

**Hello, Sam.**

 

Is what he eventually says. That's okay, right? Short, to the point. Or was it just weird? Oh, man, it was probably totally weird and now Sam doesn't want to be friends anymore and-

 

**[Received]**

**Hey, Castiel! What are you up to?**

 

Or... maybe everything is fine. Yeah, okay. Everything is fine.

 

**[Sent]**

**Just reading**

 

“Who are you talking to, honey?”

Castiel starts, dropping his phone into his lap. His mother is standing in the doorway watching him.

“Um, my friend Sam.”

“Oh?” She says, coming into the room. She sits gingerly on the end of his bed, hands on her lap. “Is this a new friend?”

“Yes,” Says Castiel. “From the library.”

“Hmm.” Says his mother. “What's his last name?”

“Winchester.”

She thinks for a bit. “I don't know the name.” She says finally. “Does he go to church?”

“I don't know,” Castiel answers truthfully. “I didn't ask.”

She frowns, but doesn't comment on this. “Well, we'll have to meet him, of course, before you start spending too much time with him.”

“Mother,” Castiel says, questioning his mother aloud for the first time in memory. “Don't you think I have good enough judgment to tell a person's character for myself?”

His mother gives him a small smile and reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. “You're young,” She says. “You don't understand. Your father and I know what's best.” With this, she stands, pats him on the shoulder, and leaves.

This conversation with his mother has certainly accomplished one thing: Castiel is now sure of his first step; he has to move out.


	2. Dante's Meat Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a big thanks to my beta readers, [toriftw](http://toriftw.tumblr.com/) and Dash.
> 
> \---
> 
> In case you were wondering, in this story Castiel is nineteen, Sam is nineteen, and Dean is twenty-three.

Moving out is much harder than Castiel anticipated. For one thing, he has no job, which makes getting his own place almost impossible. For another, he has no friends with which to room.

But he has to leave, he has to get out of here. He just doesn't fit anymore, too big for the space he used to occupy. It's an odd feeling, being changed. Because everything else, everyone else, is the same as always. It's just that their voices sound different to his ears, what was once a soothing timbre is now a grating screech. Words that once brought comfort are hollow now.

In any case, he doesn't give up. Eventually, he stumbles across a train of thought that leads him to an estranged cousin.

Gabriel, his name is. The Collins family doesn't speak of him, or to him. Really, he's not much older than Castiel, but he seems like a legend. Apparently he just had enough of all the bullshit one day and left, moved downtown. After that, Castiel isn't really sure. He's heard rumors, only whispers, that Gabriel is up to everything from witchcraft to prostitution. No one actually knows, but Castiel doubts any of the rumors are true.

It takes a few days, but Castiel manages to track down his cousin's number. Gabriel's sister, Anna, kept in touch secretly, and is kind enough to share the information. Castiel has the number in his phone now, and he keeps looking at it, trying to work up the nerve to call, but never pushing the button.

He remembers Gabriel from when they were children. He was always laughing, or shouting. He'd always been too loud, too wild, and Castiel was encouraged to stay far away from him. But there were times, few and far between though they were, that the two of them did manage to play together. They would tromp through the woods on wild adventures. Gabriel would climb up a tree and Castiel would tell him to come down before he hurt himself. Castiel would fall and skin his knee, and Gabriel would say that it was okay, everybody got a little hurt on adventures, that's what made them exciting.

They're fond memories, and Castiel finds himself wondering if his cousin remembers him fondly, if he remembers him at all.

Finally, he works up the nerve. He's at a little park by his house, sitting on a metal bench by the swings, and he presses _Send_.

It rings once, twice, three times, four, before someone finally picks up.

“ _Dante's Meat Palace,_ ” Greets the voice on the other end. “ _How big a sausage can we send your way?_ ”

“Um...” Castiel falters. Anna gave him this number, says it's the one she reaches him with. “Is... Gabriel available?”

“ _Who's askin'?_ ” Says the voice, after a beat, suddenly losing its affected air.

“I'm his cousin.”

There's a long pause, and then, “ _Which one?_ ”

“Castiel.”

“ _Cassie!_ ” Says the voice, suddenly enthusiastic. “ _How's it hangin', cuz?_ ”

“Gabriel!” Castiel chastises. “Why- why would you answer your phone like that?”

“ _Keeps people on their toes._ ”

“I suppose it would.” Castiel sighs.

On the other end, Gabriel laughs. “ _So, why the call out of the blue? Gonna try and bring me back to the “Righteous Path”?_ ”

“Not quite.” Castiel tells him.

 

-o-

 

“ _Hol_ y _shit_.” Gabriel says, about forty-five minutes later. Castiel has told him, well, everything. Everything that's happened since they last saw each other. His accident, his epiphany, the realization that he had to move out. Just... everything. He doesn’t usually talk so much, but Gabriel was always good at getting him to talk. He's gotten particularly good at spilling his guts recently, it seems.

“So, yeah.” Castiel end eloquently. “Now I’m looking to move out, but I’m not really sure how to go about doing that. I don't exactly have a lot of people to talk to. And I just- I thought of you. You always know what to do.”

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ” Gabriel sputters. “ _I have never, once in my life, known what I was doing. I can't believe you're asking me for advice right now, this is so crazy._ ”

“Oh.” Castiel says, feeling suddenly very defeated. “So you can't help me?” This was honestly the only thing he could think of, the only course of action that made any sort of sense. And it is, of course, a dead end.

“ _Hey, hey. I didn't say that_.” Gabriel backtracks. “ _It's just, ugh._ ” On the other end of the line, he huffs, and then mutters something under his breath. “ _I actually... am in need of a roommate myself at the moment, if you're interested in that at all._ ”

“You're... you are? Really?” Castiel asks, hope rising in his voice.

“ _Yeah, well, my last roommate was just – ahem – incarcerated, and he paid half the rent, so yeah i'm actually in a bit of a bind myself._ ”

“Arrested?” Castiel asks warily. “What for?”

“ _Ah, possession. I know, I know, shame on me for letting him stay here. But look, what my roommate does in his room in his spare time is none of my business. It was just weed, anyway, not like it was meth or somethin'. I'd like to think i'd have said something if he was smoking crack in the living room. Anyway, I think it makes me a better roommate, you know? I'm not gonna impose on your space. The communal space has a couple rules, but you do what you want in your own room. As long as you're not, like, murdering people in there._ ” He trails off, finally.

“Oh.” Says Castiel.

“ _So, uh, yeah. You interested?_ ”

“Yes!” Castiel says, after only a moment of thought. This is much better than he'd hoped. This way, he wouldn't have to live with a stranger, or try to pay rent on his own.

“ _You wanna see it first?_ ”

Castiel shakes his head, before remembering that Gabriel can't see him. “No, no. I'm sure it's fine, I trust you. But if I could move in as soon as possible, that would be wonderful.”

“ _Yeah, okay._ ” Gabriel says, after a pause. “ _Let's do this thing_.”

 

-o-

 

Conflict is not something Castiel enjoys. In fact, he tends to do whatever he possibly can not to cause, or be a part of, any conflict. That said, he does realize that sometimes it simply can't be avoided.

His parents take the news that he's moving out about as well as he expected, which is to say, not well at all. His father shouts quite a bit, and his mother starts crying, convinced that he's on drugs. He assures them that he isn't, that he simply needs to move out. He's an adult, after all.

They aren't convinced, but he stands firm, surprising everyone, especially himself. He doesn't have a lot of stuff, so it doesn't take him long to pack up his things, which is good because his parents are absolutely livid.

After a while, a car pulls up outside, and when Castiel looks out his window, he recognizes Gabriel getting out of the driver's seat. It's been a very long time, yes, but Gabriel still has the same air about him, the same barely controlled energy. Also, his hair and fashion sense seem to be basically the same.

Castiel sprints out of his room, down the stairs, and to the front door. He swings it open as Gabriel comes up, and ushers his cousin into the house, past his father and mother, who bursts into tears again when she sees who it is.

“Nice to see you too.” Gabriel mutters.

“Come on.” Castiel whispers, hurrying him along.

When they get to his room, Gabriel lets out his breath with an exaggerate whoosh. “Goddamn. You'd think you were going away to war or something. They know you're- what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen.”

“Yeah. Nineteen. You're an adult. They realize that, right?”

“Um, no.” Castiel says, hoisting a box of clothes up onto his hip. “They... really don't. Also they're convinced I’m on drugs.”

Gabriel looks him up and down, raises an eyebrow, and says, “Huh.”

“Yeah, I know. I'd like to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

“No probs, cuz.” Gabriel says, grabbing a box that's almost as big as he is. “Let's get the hell outta here. The vibes in this place are killin' me.”

They load up Gabriel's dinky two-door and get out of there as quickly as possible. There are a few times Castiel almost gives in and unpacks, guilt rising up in his chest and threatening to weigh him down, but he can't. He's got to start living, he _has_ to. This feels so incredibly selfish, but he never puts himself first, and look where that's got him. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, reminding himself that he needs this, he needs to do this for himself. He doesn't look back as they drive away.

As soon as the house is out of sight, Castiel breathes a sigh of relief, his shoulders relax.

“So, where is it you live, anyway?” He wonders.

“Downtown. South Willow, over by the river. You know it?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I've never been over there. My parents don't exactly frequent the downtown area.”

“Fair enough. It, uh, might take a little getting used to.”

Castiel purses his lips. “I'll be fine.”

“Alright, alright, calm down. Just sayin', it's an adjustment. I didn't have a particularly easy time when I first came down here.”

“I can't believe you did it all by yourself.” Castiel says, in awe. “I never could've- I mean, I’m having a hard enough time as it is. I just don't know how you did it.”

Gabriel lets out a bark of humorless laughter. “Dude, it was...” He runs a hand through his sandy hair. “It was fuckin' hard. I mean, it was worth it, but it was rough. I wouldn't want you to have to do the shit that I had to do. Came down here with no job, no money, no clue. But look at me now, huh? Got a workin' car, my own apartment, my own shop. I'm doin' damn good. Speaking of which, I could use a hand at the shop, if you haven’t got a job.”

“You have a shop?” Castiel asks, surprised. He hasn't heard anything about Gabriel owning his own business. “What is it?”

“Oh, it's a sex shop.”

 

-o-

 

Cuffs is a little shop down by the river. The area is surprisingly clean, and has a bit of old world feel. This street is dark red brick instead of blacktop, and there are lots of benches along the sidewalk for people to sit in between shops.

Gabriel parks around the back and leads Castiel up a set of stairs that hug the side of the building, to a small apartment, where he lives. He doesn't show Castiel the shop yet, for which his cousin is grateful. He might be moving forward with his life, but there's no way he's ready for that yet.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Gabriel opens the door and ushers him inside a surprisingly clean apartment. It's small, and there are candy wrappers littered across the cushions of the overstuffed couch, but there's nothing terribly gross that Castiel can see.

“So, yeah.” Says Gabriel. “Living room.” He gestures. “Kitchen.” Basically also part of the living room. “There's the bathroom, and the bedrooms are the doors on either side. I know it's a little small, but the rent's cheap, and it's right above work.”

“No, it's- it's good. Homey.”

Gabriel snorts. “That's the polite way of saying “messy”, isn't is?”

“Well...”

“You can just say it, dude. I don't give a fuck. “

“I mean, yeah, it's a little messy. But that's okay.”

Gabriel flings his car keys onto the coffee table and then drops onto the couch. “You don't have to be polite. Just say what you mean.”

Castiel sighs and sits down next him. “I'm not used to that. It... might take some time.”

Gabriel reaches out and slaps his palm against Castiel's chest. “Baby steps, yo. I respect that.”

“Thanks?”

“Whatever. You wanna watch some tv?”

“I was going to unload the rest of my stuff from the car.”

“Right, right, guess we should do that. Okay, after that, you wanna watch tv?”

“I guess so.”

“Porn? Or porn?”

“Gabriel!”

 

-o-

 

Despite the move, Castiel's favorite library is still the closest. He goes there, hoping to apply for a job, he's not ready to work at Gabriel's yet, but he still needs an income. When he asks, though, he's told that they're not currently hiring.

He frowns unhappily, turning away from the front desk. He finds himself frowning into a very familiar, handsome face. Sam's brother.

Dean smiles, and Castiel sees dimples, and shining white teeth. “Hey! You're Sam's friend- Castiel, right?”

“Oh, ah, yeah. Yes. Castiel... is my name.”

Dean leans back and puts his hands on his hips. “Man, Sam talks about you all the goddamn time. Kid needs more friends, if you ask me.” His eyes flick over Castiel, from his feet to his head, he squints. “You seem okay.” He sticks his hand out.

Castiel takes it, hesitantly, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket at Dean's touch. The man's grip is firm, his skin calloused, but still strangely soft.

Castiel swallows and pulls his hand back. “Um, thanks. Sam, um, Sam's cool.”

Dean reaches up and runs his hand through his hair. It's lighter than Sam's, and much shorter. “Yeah, he's a good kid. Gets a little wrapped up in his own head, but, yeah. Good kid. I'm here to pick him, actually.”

“Oh, yeah? I, well, I actually came here looking for a job, but they're not hiring.” Castiel huffs.

“You're looking for a job? Wait, how old are you?”

“Nineteen!” Castiel says, fighting to keep the petulant edge from his voice.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Dean laughs. “Just wondering. Did you go to school with Sam, then?”

“Ah, no. I went to, uh, someplace else.” Castiel says, reluctant to tell Dean that he went to a religious school.

“You, uh, goin' to college? Sam's already got his all planned out, got into fuckin' _Stanford_ , for christ's sake. Good thing he got so many scholarships. Gonna be hard enough paying for it as it is.” He huffs.

“Sam's going to _Stanford_?!” Castiel gapes. He had no idea. “When?”

Dean shrugs, but there's a harsh edge to his mouth that wasn't there before. “Next year probably. Could'a gone this year but, heh, I think he's worried about leaving me alone.”

Castiel tilts his head curiously. “Alone?”

“He lives with me.” Dean says dismissively. “So, you going anywhere?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I don't think so. My parents wanted me to go to, um, seminary school. But I've recently realized that that's not what I want to do. I never thought about anything else though. Anyway I just moved out and I don't have any money anyway, so...” He shrugs.

“Seminary school.” Dean says slowly, looking at Castiel closely again, like he's trying to puzzle him out. “Sounds like an interesting story.”

“Not so much.”

Dean grins. “You could tell me about it anyway.”

Castiel balks a little, getting the distinct feeling he's being flirted with, although he's not quite sure why. Maybe it's the way Dean is looking at him. Something about that grin, or the way his eyes keeping darting over Castiel. He's not sure what to do. Should he ignore it? Should he tell Dean that he isn't interested?

Because he's not. He doesn't like men. Of course not. But, well, Dean _is_ very handsome, and his lips look very soft and- okay, no. No no, he _doesn't_ kind of totally want to kiss Dean, just to see what it's like.

_Anyway_ , he doesn't know what to do. He's not sure how to respond. He's about to stutter something, probably embarrassing, when he's saved by Sam, who comes loping up, smiling happily.

“Hey, Castiel!” He calls. “How are you doing?”

“I'm doing fine, Sam.” Castiel says, relieved.

“How's everything, you know, going?” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

Dean frowns. “Something... going on?”

“Oh, heh,” Castiel says quickly. “No no, it's, um, i'm fine.” He waves his hands. “Don't worry about it.”

“Wait a minute, what's going on?” Dean interjects. “Are you okay?”

“He died!” Sam whispers loudly.

“What?!”

“Yeah! Like, what, a couple weeks ago?” Sam looks at Castiel.

Castiel huffs. He'd wanted to keep this to himself as much as possible. So much for that. “Uh, yeah.” He says finally, turning back to Dean. “I was in a car accident, my heart stopped. I was resuscitated though. Obviously.”

“And now he's having kind of a, you know, a crisis because he realized that he's never done anything with his life.”

“Yes, thank you, Sam.” Castiel says dryly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Shit, man.” Says Dean, looking suitably stunned.

“That's what I said!” Sam exclaims.

“I moved out.” Castiel tells Sam. “So, that's something.”

“You should make, like, a list or something.”

“A list?”

“Yeah!” Says Sam, growing excited. “Like a bucket list! Sort of.”

“Hmm.” Says Castiel, considering. It's not a bad plan, and he does enjoy lists.

“And we can help you do the stuff!”

“We can?” Says Dean, who has been watching this exchange bemusedly.

“Of course we can, it'll be so much _fun_!”

“Well i'm glad you're enjoying it.” Says Castiel.

“We'll have fun, Castiel!” Sam says, slinging an arm around his brother. “It's like a- a quest!”

“Well... I do love quests.” Castiel admits.

“There you go. We should do it! Right, Dean?”

Dean shrugs. “Sure, why not.” He says.


	3. New Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, huge thanks to my betas, toriftw and Dash.

Castiel sits in his small bed at Gabriel's, clad in pajamas, hair wet from his recent shower. He has a notebook open on his crossed legs, and he's fiddling with his pen. He doesn’t know where to start. Where does he even begin? What can claim the first spot?

Ultimately, he just takes a deep breath and just writes the first thing he thinks of. Once he does, the whole thing doesn't seem so daunting, and words just begin to flow out. Everything he can think of that he's never done, everything that he's ever wanted to do. The list grows and grows, dark lines stretching across the white paper. He writes long into the night, adding things and scratching out others, until it covers two pages of notebook paper. He leaves the list open ended, because he has a feeling he's going to be adding more things.

At the end of it, he breathes a sigh of relief, and sets the paper on his side table. It might not be completely finished, but it's a start, and that's what he needs. He needs to feel like he's doing something, moving forward. The passive sense of anxiety that's been plaguing him for weeks melts away, replaced by feelings of accomplishment.

That night, for the first time since he died, Castiel sleeps easy.

 

-o-

 

At breakfast the next morning, Gabriel takes one look at Castiel and groans.

“Are you always going to be this fucking chipper in the morning?” He asks.

“I'm just in a good mood today.” Castiel tells him, pouring himself a bowl of frosted flakes.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “What's the deal? Find somebody to pop your cherry already? Pour me a bowl of that too, wouldya?”

Castiel chokes, spilling milk all over the counter. “No! I didn't find someone to- to-  _that_ ! I'm just in a good mood! And get your own cereal!” He takes a deep breath before taking his bowl to the table, where Gabriel pouts. 

“But you were _right there_!” He whines. 

“Well, now i'm not.”

Gabriel huffs. “Fine!” He grouches.

When he comes back from getting cereal, he plunks his bowl down and sighs loudly. “I hate mornings.”

“Why are you even awake this early?”

“I have to do _adult_ stuff.”

Castiel grimaces. “Are you ordering more dildos?”

“Ha!” Gabriel barks. “No, I have to go the doctor, get some cream for this _god_ damn rash.”

“Do I want to know what kind of rash?”

Gabriel laughs again, but sobers quickly. “Uh, probably not.”

“Right. Well.”

“So what's on your agenda today, pipsqueak?”

“I'm taller than you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel flicks a spoonful of cereal at him. Castiel, growing used to this sort of thing by now, dodges the projectile breakfast and scowls at his cousin.

“I'm still looking for a job.” Castiel tells him.

“Yeah, well, there's one downstairs for ya.”

Castiel grimaces. “I appreciate that, Gabriel. Really, I do. I'm just- i'm not ready to sell... sex items.”

“ _Obviously_.” Gabriel says, rolling his eyes. “You couldn't sell a purple satin suit to a pimp, my friend.”  
“Hey!”

“Well, it's true. No, I was thinking of having you help me with the books.”

“... the books?”

“Yeah, you know, filing, scheduling, ordering. All that shit. I suck at it.”

“Hmm.” Castiel hums, considering the thought of working at Cuffs since the first time Gabriel brought it up. He could probably do the books, and never even have to step foot in the store. Maybe...

“I'll think about it.”

“Sweet tits!” Gabriel exclaims. “That's what I like to hear!”

“It's not a yes.” Castiel clarifies.

“But it's a maybe! And I love maybes!”

“Well. I mean. Alright. As long as you're happy, I guess.”

Gabriel grins at him.

Ten minutes later finds Gabriel leaving in a rush, haphazardly pulling on his shoes as he falls out the door.

Castiel sits at the table, staring down into his empty cereal bowl. Empty. Just like his future. Just like... everything. When did things get this way, he wonders. Why did he never notice, before the accident, how pointless everything was?

His dreary thoughts are interrupted by the soft chime of his phone where it sits on the table next to his bowl, when he thumbs the screen, he sees he has a text from Sam.

 

**[Received]**

**How's the list going?**

 

**[Sent]**

**Finished for now. Going to start working on it.**

 

**[Received]**

**What's first on the list?**

 

**[Sent]**

“ **Never learned to drive”**

 

**[Received]**

**You don't know how to drive?**

 

**[Sent]**

**No. It never came up.**

 

**[Received]**

**I'm not much of a teacher. But Dean is, he can help!**

 

Castiel sucks in a quick breath. He's not sure that's a good idea, but he can't explain why, even to himself, there's no way he can explain it to Sam. So he ends up pushing back the feeling, and typing:

 

**[Sent]**

**Sounds good. When should we do it?**

 

 

They end up in a mostly abandoned parking lot, close enough to Gabriel's that Castiel can walk there and back. There's a Chinese restaurant in the square, and a single shoe store, and nothing else. Everything else moved out years ago.

Sam and Dean show up a few minutes after Castiel arrives. They pull beside him where's he's sitting in front of the Chinese restaurant in a very, very small white car. Dean is in the driver's seat, one arm handing out of the passenger window, a pair of giant sunglasses perched on his nose. Sam is in the passenger seat, glowering at the radio, which is spewing some very loud music that Castiel is unfamiliar with.

“You ready for this?” Dean asks.

“Yes!” Castiel exclaims, climbing to his feet. He's nervous, yet, but he thinks he can _probably_ do this, at least. 

Sam and Dean get out of the car and they all shuffle around, Castiel in the driver's seat, Dean in the passenger's, Sam in the almost non-existent backseat.

“This is your car?” Castiel asks Dean. Honestly, he'd expected something... bigger.

“This piece of shit? No way! It's my uncle's. But he said we could use it today because there is _no way_ i'm teaching somebody to drive in mine. No offense.”

“She is _not_ a piece of shit!” Sam objects from the backseat, where he's had to practically lay down because of the lack of leg room. “She's just... well loved. Uncle Bobby says I can have her when I go to college.”

“Gross, Sam.” Says Dean. “I don't want to know what you get up to in here.” He grins mischievously in Castiel's direction, as if he's in on this joke too, and it makes Castiel feel... happy. Included.

“That's not what I meant!” Sam whines.

“Yeah, yeah, just keep it in yer pants while I’m teachin' Castiel to drive. He doesn’t need to be subjected to the horror that is your dick.”

“You fucking-”

“Okay, christ, _moving the fuck on_.” Dean huffs and turns back to Castiel. “This thing's automatic, so you're not gonna have to worry about shifting gears or anything. This should be pretty easy. You know which pedal is the brake and which one's the gas?”

“Um...” Says Castiel.

“Big one's the brake.” Dean tells him, pointing down toward Castiel's feet. “Little one's the gas. Here's your gear shift.” Dean leans across Castiel to point at something on the other side of the steering wheel, and Castiel gets a whiff of cologne, sweet, subtle. It makes something in him sit up, take notice. He blinks, and tries to focus on what Dean is saying instead of how close his muscly shoulder is.

“That's your blinker, you flick it up for right, down for left. That's also where your windshield wipers and your brights are, but we won't worry about that right now.” He sits back up. “You got your side mirrors and your rear-view.” He points out each mirror. “And you can adjust 'em with this button here.”

He takes a minute to show Castiel how to adjust each mirror before finally slumping back into his seat.

“Okay, let's roll!”

Castiel swallows, suddenly terrified. “Roll?” He squeaks.

“Yeah,” Says Dean, waving his hand nonchalantly, unaware of the panic swirling around in the other man's head. “Put 'er in drive and we'll cruise around the parking lot.”

He glances over at Castiel again, notices the way his hands are clenched in a death-grip on the wheel. When he speaks again he voice is softer, less flippant, more cajoling.

“Hey now, it's no biggie, man. 'S no other cars, see? You'll do fine.”

Castiel takes a deep breath, and shifts the car into drive.

 

Ten minutes later, Castiel is just a ball of anxiety and panic in human skin. Why the  _hell_ had he thought this would be a good idea? It's a car. A  _car_ ! He's so  _stupid_ !

He slams into park and lays his forehead against the steering wheel, letting his trembling hands fall into his lap.

“Hey, uh, you alright?” Comes Dean's voice from beside him.

“I'm sorry.” Castiel whispers. “I'm so sorry. I can't- I can't do this.”

“It's no problem. I didn't even, uh, think about it.” He huffs. “We're idiots.” He motions to himself, and Sam in the backseat.

“We _are_!” Sam groans. “We're thoughtless idiots!”

Castiel shakes his head. “I didn't think about it either. I thought i'd be fine. I thought... I could do this.”

“We can keep trying, if you want.” Says Sam.

“I don't want to keep trying.” Castiel says, voice sounding very, very small.

Everything is very quiet for several long moments, and Castiel has ample time to be embarrassed with himself, before he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. When he raises his head, Dean is looking at him.

“You'll get there.” He says gently, and there's a sort of quiet understanding in his eyes and his voice that makes Castiel think maybe he knows what he's talking about.

But then he's pulling his hand back, leaving a cold space on Castiel's shoulder, and he says,

“You guys want grub? I'm fuckin' starving.”

“Yes!” Sam shouts. “I vote Chinese food!”

Dean looks at Castiel. “Chinese okay with you?”

“Oh, yes.” Castiel replies, sitting up, glad of the subject change. “That sounds fine.”

They leave the car where it is, right smack in the middle of the parking lot, and they head into the little Chinese place. It's called China Wok and the staff seems very excited to see customers. Castiel surmises that they don't get a lot of business, probably because of the location. It can't possibly be the food, which is phenomenal.

Dean says as much, mouth full of food.

“'s best fuggin' eggroll 've ever tasted.” He says around his food.

“You're disgusting.” Sam says, looking like he might be sick.

Dean sticks his tongue out at Sam, covered in chewed food. Sam gags.

“I'm not related to you.” He says.

“'s true.” Dean agrees. “You're adopted.”

“Fuck off!”

Dean laughs and reaches over the table to ruffle Sam's hair.

Castiel... watches. And he feels alright. He feels like he's a part of something right now.

 

-o-

 

Walking home, Castiel thinks about this new fear of cars, how it seems to come and go. The day he moved out of his parents' house, and ridden in Gabriel's car, he hadn't been afraid at all. But then, he hadn't really been thinking about the car. He'd been thinking of how he was disappointing his parents, how he was starting anew. He'd been afraid and excited and worried all at once, there had been a lot of things on his mind.

Today, he had definitely been thinking of the car. About how unstable he felt in the driver's seat, with all the unfamiliar dials and buttons, and hundreds of pounds of metal beneath him, hurtling across the pavement. And, just like that, his heart is pounding again, his vision is blurring, he feels like he might throw up.

He has to sit down on the sidewalk for a while until he calms down, and it's pretty embarrassing, but at least there's no one around to see it.

When his panic attack has run its course, Castiel continues to sit on the ground. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his forehead against them, suddenly exhausted. After a while he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and he calls Balthazar.

He has a feeling that he should have done this a while ago, but he hasn't really wanted to talk to much of anyone recently.

The phone rings four times before Balthazar picks up.

“ _Hello?_ ” He says.

“Hey, Bal. It's, uh, it's me.”

“ _Cassie?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _Christ, man, are you okay? Did you really move out?_ ”

“Yeah,” Castiel tells him. “How did you know about that?”

“ _I tried to visit last week. Your parents basically told me that you'd absconded with the devil, although honestly I thought they'd probably just locked you up in the basement or something_.”

Castiel laughs, a strange sound that reverberates through his hollow chest. “I'm living with Gabriel now.”

“ _You're fucking with me. You are, aren’t you? You're fucking pulling my leg_.”

“No, not pulling anything.”

Castiel hears Balthazar huff. “ _Wow, you, uh, really took my advice to heart, huh? Didn't really expect you to run off with our wildest cousin_.”

Castiel shakes his head, forgetting that Balthazar can't see him. “Gabriel isn't wild. He's... just like he was when we were kids. He just likes adventure, that's all. You could come visit sometime.”

There's a pause, and then, “ _Yeah? Maybe I will. After I get out of this damned wheelchair anyway. I'm so bored, Cassie, I’m pulling my hair out. My parents think it's the dog shedding but it's really just me leaving clumps of my hair everywhere_.” He jokes.

“You're okay though?” Castiel asks.

“ _Yeah, I’m good. You_?”

Castiel chews on his bottom lip. “I keep having dreams about it.” He admits, quietly. “And... panic attacks.”

There's a long pause at the other end of the line, and then Balthazar says, “ _Yeah, well, me too_.”

“Oh.”

“ _Yeah_.”

“How do you...?”

“ _I don't. I don't deal with it. That's what you were going to ask, right?_ ”  
“Yeah.” Castiel sighs.

“ _Sorry_.”

“It's okay. I wasn't really... expecting a, like, a cure-all or anything.”

“ _I'm thinking of getting a bike, if that helps at all. Once my legs get better, you know? Don't feel like i'll be driving my car anytime soon, and not just because it got turned into a bloody pretzel_.”

“That's very... green of you.”

Balthazar snorts. “ _Yeah, that's the reason_.” He says dryly. “Not _the nightmare inducing trauma_.”

Castiel frowns, watching a lady across the street walk her tiny yapping dog. The small animal trots a few feet ahead of its owner, barks, and trots back. Castiel changes the subject.

“So. How, uh, you know... are things? You been... up to anything exciting?”

He hears a scoff from Balthazar. “ _Yeah, been out partying constantly. No, I havn't been up to anything! Been stuck in this goddamn chair with nothing to do but listen to my mom talk about “god's plan” while you're out there having a revolution. This sucks!_ ” He spits. “ _If you get drunk for the first time without me I will take personal offense, I hope you know!_ ”

“I promise I won't drink without you.” Castiel says, unable to help the fond smile the grows on his lips. “As soon as you're out of the chair we'll have you over.”

“ _Well... alright_.” Balthazar concedes, sounding placated. “ _Just don't have too much fun without me_.”

“Of course not.”

There are other voices, faint, on the other end. Balthazar groans. “ _Well it's time for Bible Study, apparently._ ”

“Don't miss that.”

“ _Ugh. Don't rub it in. I'll talk to you later._ ”

“Later. Bye.”

“ _Bye_.”

And then, there's silence.

Castiel slips his phone back into his pocket, takes a deep breath, and slowly gets up. He dusts off his pants and starts walking slowly back toward home. He feels wobbly, exhausted, and kinda tingly. It takes him a minute to get his bearings back, to pull himself back to the present. But when he finally does he finds that he can breathe again.


	4. Pajama Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, in this story Castiel and Sam are nineteen, Gabriel is twenty-two, and Dean is twenty-three.

The next time Castiel sees Sam, the boy is sitting outside on the steps of the library when Castiel comes walking up. When he sees Castiel, he leaps to his feet, smiling and waving.

“Hey, Castiel!” He exclaims.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel greets the boy, unable to keep the smile from growing on his face. He's unaccustomed to being greeted so enthusiastically, and it feels good. It feels really really good.

Sam sits back down, with a huff. “Dean was supposed to be here to pick me up like a half an hour ago. He's always late.” He throws his hands up in the hair and then slumps back onto the steps.

“So anyway, what's up.”

Castiel laughs and sits down on the step next to him, the warm concrete beneath his legs makes him feel strangely juvenile. “Just returning my book.” He says. Even though he has to return the books, he can never help but think of them as his own.

Sam looks at the book in Castiel's lap, and nods in approval. “Goblet of Fire. A classic.”

“It's my first time reading them.” Castiel admits.

“No way.” Says Sam.

Castiel nods. “I was never allowed to read them.”

Sam blinks. “That's crazypants, man. How do you like them?”

Castiel grins. “I understand the hype.”

“You understand the hype?”

Castiel nods.

“So... you like them?”

“Very much.”

“Yes! Awesome!” Sam exclaims. “I honestly don't know what i'd do if you didn't like them. But you do! So... we should have a movie marathon!”

“A movie marathon?”

“Yeah, man! Harry Potter movie marathon! You haven’t seen them, right?”

“No.”

“Perfect! Or... maybe a Lord of the Rings marathon? You seen those?”

“I have not. My parents aren't big on elves or magic or... whatever.”

“Well, I mean, it's mostly about hobbits.”

“Still.”

“You. Will. Love them.”

“Well... if you think so.”

“Man, I am so serious right now. They're perfect.”

“Okay!” Castiel agrees, catching some of Sam's enthusiasm. “That sounds great!”

“And, okay. So, I know it sounds cheesy, but picture this:” He holds up his hands. “Pajama party.”

Castiel snorts. “How _old_ are you?”

“You laugh now, but imagine. Popcorn. Pajamas. Movies. It's gonna be perfect.”

And, really, it does sound perfect. “When should we do it?”

“Tonight!”

“Wha- really?”

“Yes really! I mean, of course we can't do the Harry Potter movies because you haven’t finished the books yet, but we can totally watch the LotR trilogy. Dean doesn't even have to work in the morning. It's the perfect time! Unless... you're busy?”

“I am not!” Castiel tells him. ”Dropping this book off at the library and getting the next one was literally the only thing on my agenda today.”

“Perfect! Um...” He taps his chin in thought. “Once Dean gets here he can drive us to your house, we can get your pajamas, and then we can go back to ours?”

“Or... we could walk back to my apartment and Dean could just meet us there.”

“Hmm. Depends on how close he is. Tell you what, while you get The Order of the Phoenix, I'll call Dean.”

“Is that the next one?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, i'll be right back.”

 

Fifteen minutes later finds the two of them walking back to Gabriel's apartment, Castiel with a much-read copy of The Order of the Phoenix under his arm. Dean will meet them at Gabriel's, because he'd apparently gotten caught up at work, and is only just now leaving.

“Happens all the time.” Sam tells him. “I think he forgets where he's at or something. I've always got to call him and make sure he remembers to pick me up.”

Castiel frowns. “That sucks.”

“Nah. He's got a lot on his mind. Most people don't have all the responsibility he's got at twenty-three, you know?”

Castiel's frown deepens, he just looks at Sam, waiting for him to elaborate. Eventually, he does.

“Well, you know, he's got me. He's had to take care of me for, well, a long time. And he's got all our bills. And i'm going to college next year. I got a few scholarships but it's still gonna... gonna be rough.” Sam trails off for a minute, lost in his own thoughts, before picking back up abruptly. “He's only one person, you know? It's just a lot. He works his ass off and still- still makes time for me. No matter what.”

“He's a good brother.” Castiel surmises.

“He's the best brother.” Sam corrects him. “He's just a little forgetful sometimes.”

“It happens.”

Sam nods. “I'm just, i'm worried about him. How he'll be when I leave. I think he's just gonna work himself into the ground .” Sam huffs.

“I- I think he'll be okay.” Castiel says, not at all sure about what he's saying, but determined to say something. “He'd want you to go to college.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam grumbles. “I'm just venting.”

Castiel nods. He understands the need to let off steam.

They come up to the apartment from the back, so Sam doesn't see the shop. They tromp up the stairs and come into the apartment.

“So, this is my cousin's place.” Castiel tells Sam. “It's pretty messy so, uh, sorry about that.”

“Psh,” Sam says dismissively. “Our house is a fuckin' wreck. Which... I probably shouldn't tell you, since you're coming over.”

Castiel laughs. “It's okay, it's not a big deal.”

He leaves his friend on the couch and goes to knock on Gabriel's bedroom door.

“Come in!” Gabriel sings.

Castiel pokes his head in. “Hey, I’m going over to my friend Sam's house to watch movies.”

His cousin frowns. “And you're leaving me all alone?!” He cries dramatically.

“He can come too.” Sam says from the couch. “As long as he wears pajamas.”

“Sam says you can come if you wear your pajamas.” Castiel conveys.

“Deal!” Says Gabriel, perking up. “I'll even pay for a snack detour!”

Castiel turns to look at Sam, who shrugs. “Can't beat that.”

“We're gonna have twizzlers out the ass!” Gabriel shouts.

“Ew.” Says Sam. Then he perks up. “Bring your list!” He tells Castiel. “We can figure out what to work on next while we're all together.”

Castiel shrugs, but he gets his list.

Ten minutes later, the three of them are squeezed onto the couch. Castiel has a set of gray pajamas, silky, with little tiny angels printed all over. It's a remnant of his past that he can't quite part with.

Gabriel, on the other hand, has somehow procured adult-sized footie pajamas, black, complete with little yellow lighting bolts that glow in the dark. How he got his hands on them, Castiel will never know.

 

Gabriel has been practically bouncing in his seat as they wait for Dean. When he finally knocks on the door, Gabriel jumps up and bounds over to the door to let him in. Before anyone can even say hello, Dean says,

“I can't believe you live above a sex shop.”

“Uh... hello.” Says Gabriel.

“Dean,” Says the man, sticking out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Gabriel.” Castiel's cousin introduces himself slowly.

“So do you get all your porn from downstairs?” Dean asks secretly, as if the whole room can't hear him.

“Well, I own the place.” Gabriel tells him, inspecting his fingernails. He pauses for effect. “So... yes.”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter, squints at Gabriel's pajamas, seemingly seeing them for the first time, and laughs harder.

“Fuck.” He says, once he stops. He sighs deeply. “Fuck, man. You really own it?”

“Sure do.” Gabriel says proudly. “'s the love of my life.”

“Huh.” Says Dean. His eyes leave Gabriel and flit over to Sam and Castiel, where they sit on the couch. “You guys ready to go or are we braiding Sam's hair first?”

Sam rolls his eyes and pushes himself up off of the couch. “We're ready to go, asshole. We've been waiting on you for like half an hour.”

“Bitch it's been like ten minutes.” Dean scoffs.

“Whatever!” Sam says throwing his hands up. “Let's go, Gabriel's paying for snacks!”

“Well hot damn!” Dean grins. “That's what I’m talkin' about!”

Downstairs, Dean's car waits for them, idling at the curb in front of Cuffs. It's a massive black beast, shiny and sleek.

“Whoa.” Castiel breathes. He doesn't know a lot about cars, but this one? This one he likes.

“You like?” Dean asks, as if reading his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Castiel tells him. “It's cool.”

“Well I think “cool” is an understatement, personally, but it's good to know today's youth appreciates beauty.”

“Right.” Sam scoffs, “because you're _so_ much older than we are.”

“Just get in the car, nerd.”

Sam sticks his tongue out.

“What are you, twelve?” Dean asks.

Sam gives him the finger.

 

The local grocery store is their choice for snack foods. It boasts two aisles of candy and another of just potato chips. Gabriel and Sam take off running down one isle, leaving Dean and Castiel to take the other. Castiel can't help but smile as he watches Gabriel run off in his footie pajamas.

“So,” Dean says, tossing two big bags of twizzlers into their cart. “What do you do for fun?”

“Oh, um,” Castiel picks up a jumbo Hershey’s bar, examines it, and drops it in as well. “I read, mostly.”

Dean grimaces. “Sounds like a blast.” He says.

“I enjoy it.” Castiel says tersely.

Dean huffs a laugh, “Nah, I mean, I'm sure it's fun for you. But, okay, you live above a sex shop and the most interesting thing you do for fun is read?”

“Um... yes?” Castiel says, unsurely, picking out two big bags of m&ms.

“Your cousin _owns_ it though, I bet you get a hell of a discount on fleshlights, am I right?”

Castiel freezes. He wasn't expecting this sort of questioning. “I- I don't-” He stutters.

“Or dildos.” Dean cuts him off. “Whatever floats your, uh, your boat.” He grins and raises an eyebrow.

Castiel squeezes the bag of m&ms, suddenly afraid he's having a heart attack. “Oh no! That's not- I don't! I mean...”

“Hey, no judgment.” Dean says easily. “Which would you prefer, though?” He clears his throat. “Fleshlight or... dildo?”

“What?!” Castiel drops the bag. He is not at all comfortable with this conversation! He's not ready for weirdly worded questions about his sexuality. Everything is confusing enough as it is without this handsome man complicating things further.“Neither! I don't- there's no boat! I have to go! Get... poptarts!”

And he runs. He sprints out of the aisle, to get away from Dean and his invasive line of questioning. He hides in the breakfast isle, letting his heart calm and his face cool. He stays there until Gabriel and Sam find him, with their own cart full of junk food. Gabriel tickles Castiel's sides and pulls him into a one-armed hug. When the three of them meet up with Dean again, the man doesn't mention Castiel's outburst, and he seems to be having trouble meeting Castiel's eye.

When they're loading things into the car, though, Dean nudges Castiel in the side with his elbow.

“Hey, uh,” He says quietly. “Sorry about the, um. You know. I, uh, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Castiel stills. He's never heard Sam's brother sound so unsure before. He lets his gaze slide to Dean and, determining that the man looks sincere, he sighs. “It's okay.” He says. “I guess i'm just... too sensitive.”

“Nah, I was just bein' thoughtless.” He leans against the car. “Be warned, it'll probably happen again.” He taps the side of his head. “Nothing going on up here.”

Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but Dean just smiles and steps away, climbing into the driver's seat of the car. Castiel gets into the back with Sam.

 

The Winchester's apartment is small, and cluttered. There are piles of books lining the sides of the room, the shelves already full of more books, movies, and figurines. The kitchen and living room meld together, much like Gabriel's, distinguishable by the floor as it goes from carpet to linoleum. At the far end of the apartment is a short hall. It has two doors on the right side, and one on the left. If he had to guess, Castiel would say those are probably the bedrooms and bathroom.

“Not exactly The Ritz,” Sam says. “But it's home sweet home.” He walks through the living room and down the hall, into the door on the left.

“I think it's nice.” Castiel assures Dean, who looks a little worried.

“Damn, you guys have a lot of stuff.” Says Gabriel, perusing the shelves. “ _Nice_ Han Solo.” He picks up one of the figurines.

“Careful with that.” Dean tells him, setting grocery bags of candy down next to the couch. “Cost me like fifty bucks.”

“Yow.” Gabriel hisses, setting the figurine back down quickly. “That's a lotta dough.”

“I know, right? Was fuckin' stupid. But it's damn good, right?”

“Hell yeah, it is! I think I can see his nose hairs.”

“We gonna watch a movie or what?” Sam asks, stumbling back into the room with an armful of blankets. He dumps them onto the couch and huffs.

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec. We watching Fellowship?”

“Yeah.” Says Sam. “I'm going to get my pajamas.” He disappears through the doorway again.

“I guess I should get mine on too, since this _is_ a “pajama party”.” He makes quote marks in the air with his fingers. “But...” He shrugs. “I sleep in the nude.”

“Dean!” Comes Sam's voice, sharp from the other room. “You _have_ pajamas, put them on!”

“Ah, fine.” Dean grumbles. He stomps off, to his own room, shutting the door behind him.

Sam comes out of the other moments later, clad in flannel sleep pants and a worn blue t-shirt. He jumps over the back of the old couch, landing in the seat with a familiar easiness.

“Got your list?” He asks.

Castiel reaches into the pocket of his pajama pants and pulls out his list. It's folded up, and a little crumpled. He drops down onto the couch next Sam, trying to smooth the list out over his knee. Gabriel comes and sits on his other side.

Castiel is incredibly hesitant to share his list. It seems like such a personal thing. But Sam is his friend and Gabriel is his cousin, and if he can't share it with them, who can he share it with?

Both of them lean in to peer at the list. Sam's lips move soundlessly as he reads over the list, Gabriel snorts.

“Man, you _really haven’t_ done anything, have you? “Never been on a plane”.” He quotes the list. “”Never tried alcohol” “Never been to-” You've never been to a street fair?! What the _fuck_ dude?”

Castiel shrugs. “My parents didn't approve of street _anything_.”

“Never _tried a drug_?!” Says a new voice, close behind Castiel's head.

He jumps, startled, and lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp. When he turns, he finds Dean leaning over the back of the couch.

“Dean,” Sam says, warningly.

“That's what it says! It says “Never _tried a drug_.”” He laughs.

Castiel feels his face coloring. He starts to fold the paper back up, mortified. Dean is _laughing at him_. This is exactly why he didn't want to show the list to anyone.

“Dean!” Sam snaps.

“What?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely confused.

“I- um. I have to use the restroom.” Castiel says, standing and shoving the list hastily into his pocket. He doesn't wait for permission, he just walks as quickly as he can to where he knows the bathroom must be. Once he shuts the door behind him, he feels a little better, but he can still hear the others in the living room. He leans against the sink, trying to calm down, and listens.

“Dean, you're such an asshole!” Sam accuses.

“What did I do?” Comes Dean voice.

“You made fun of his list!”

“No I didn't!”

“It sure sounded like you did.” Gabriel chimes in.

“I didn't mean- I was just...” Dean trails off. “Ah, shit.”

“Yep.”

“Fuck.”

“That's right, dumbass.”

“Ummm...”

“Go _apologize_!”

“Right!”

Then there's footsteps, although they slow as they near the bathroom door. When they stop, Castiel can hear someone shuffling their feet. Then there's a quiet, hesitant knock.

“Just a minute!” Castiel calls.

“Hey, um, it's Dean. Can I talk to you, when you're, uh, done?”

Castiel purses his lips, sighs, and pushes himself away from the sink. He opens the door sheepishly, as embarrassed about hiding now as anything else.

“Hey,” Says Dean, looking terribly contrite. “Look, i'm really sorry-”

“No.” Castiel interrupts. “ _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have run off. See? I'm too sensitive.”

He sighs heavily and leans back against the sink. “Sorry.”

Dean watches him for a long moment, frowning, before stepping into the bathroom himself. He leans against the sink next to Castiel, their shoulders touching.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

Castiel starts to nod, but then changes his mind halfway through. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, suddenly very weary. “I- I'm trying.” He starts to explain. “I'm trying not to be so sensitive, so- so sheltered, you know? I'm trying _really_ hard to branch out and- and try new things, but... I just... I’m still me. It keeps coming back to this. I'm too scared and too... soft. I'm too _me_.”

Dean is silent for a moment, and then he bumps his shoulder against Castiel's, gently. “Nothin' wrong with soft.” He says.

“But there must be!” Castiel insists. “There must be something wrong with it, because people keep making fun of me.”

“Hey, look, I didn't mean-”

“I know. I know you didn't. But it's not just you. Everybody does it. My whole life, people have made fun of me for it. I just don't know how to _stop_.”

“Stop what?”

Castiel throws his hands up. “Being... different.” He says.

“Aw, dude.” Dean says. “That's...” He trails off. “Look. Let's go back in there and sit down, and i'm gonna make you some hot chocolate, okay?”

Castiel lets out a long, slow breath. Hot chocolate he can do. Hot chocolate will be good.“...okay.”

He follows Dean sheepishly out of the bathroom. He takes his seat in between Sam and Gabriel again, and neither of them mention his outburst. Sam puts in the movie and Dean disappears, then reappears a few minutes later with hot chocolate. He hands it to Castiel with a smile and sits down on the floor next to Sam's legs.

“ _The world has changed._ ” Comes an ethereal female voice, as the movie begins.

“ _I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it._ “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/)!
> 
>  
> 
> [The List So Far!](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap4)


	5. Watch the Sun Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not proofread this super well, so let me know if you spot any mistakes!

Sam and Gabriel are both asleep by the end of the second movie, but Dean has been chugging coffee for hours and Castiel... is entranced.

He hasn't been exposed to many movies, especially not recent ones, but Lord of the Rings is like nothing he's ever seen. He's completely invested, and wide awake at the end of the second movie, eager to find out what happens in the third.

He shifts excitedly in his seat when Dean gets up to change the disk.

“I can _not_ believe you're still awake.” The man says, yawning. He stretches his arms high above his head before slumping back onto the floor.

“They're good!” Castiel enthuses. “I need to find out what happens to Merry and Pippin.” He watches as Dean stretches his legs out. “You want my seat? I can take the floor for a while.”

“Nah.” Dean says. “More room down here anyway.” He turns to look up at Castiel. “Can I see your list?”

Castiel hesitates. He knows Dean is sorry for earlier, but he's still kind of embarrassed about some of the things on his list.

Dean notices Castiel's hesitation. “I promise not to be a dumbass.” He says.

Castiel laughs, deciding to trust Dean. He pulls his list out of his pocket and slides off of the couch to sit on the floor next to Dean. He hands it over to the man, who takes it carefully.

“So how're you doing on it?” He asks.

“Not well.” Castiel admits. “I haven’t done a single thing on this list. I'm making no progress at all.” He laughs dryly. “That's great, isn't it? I moved out. I pissed off my parents. And i've never even...” He looks over the list, “Been to the zoo. I've never even been to the zoo.”

“Why isn't moving out on your list?”

“What?”

“Moving out should be on the list, dude.”

“... really?”

Dean gives him a look and reaches over to the coffee table to get a pen. “Write that shit down, man.”

Castiel takes the pen, puts the paper on his knee, and writes down, “Never moved out.” before promptly crossing it out.

“How's that feel?”

Castiel smiles. “It feels good. I did something on my list!”

“You sure did.” Dean pats Castiel's knee. He's quiet for a minute, as the previews for the movie play. Then he asks, “So, what's your family think of all this? You moving out and, you know, living above a sex shop and everything?”

“Ah, well, they weren't exactly thrilled about me moving out. They don't actually know where I live, I haven't told them, but they know I live with Gabriel, who they hate.” He worries the hem of his pajama pants between his fingers. “Things aren't actually going great with them. My mom keeps calling me. Sometimes I answer, but mostly I ignore it. I just- I don't know what to say to her. And she keeps trying to guilt me into moving back. I love my parents, but... things had to change, and they just didn't get that. I'm pretty sure I'm a bad son.”

Dean shakes his head. “You needed room to grow. Don't feel guilty about it.”

“I don't know. I mean, they _are_ my parents.”

“And if they're decent people, they'll get over it.” Dean tells him. “You're an adult, you need to live your life.”

“Okay, I get what you're saying, but it's easier said than done, isn't it? When they're not around I can say I'm an adult all I want, but as soon as I see them it's like I'm suddenly a kid again and they're the omnipotent Parents, you know? With a capital “P”. I can't fight that.”

Dean huffs. “You know what? I actually get that. Fuck, my dad's dead and I can still feel him guilting me into shit from beyond the grave.”

“Oh my god.” Castiel says, sitting up straighter. “I'm so sorry!”

“For what?”

“I'm over here talking bad about my parents and your dad-”

Dean waves him off. “It's fine, man. My dad, well... he was a good guy. Not necessarily the best father though.” He shrugs. “You don't have to always like your parents just because mine are gone.”

“Your mom...”

“Also gone.” Dean confirms.

Castiel sighs. “I'm sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still.”

“How- um. I mean, ah...” Castiel trails off.

“Mom was in a house fire when I was four.” Dean answers the question Castiel couldn't get past his lips. “Thirteen years later dad had a heart attack.”

“Oh.” Castiel breathes. “What... what happened to you and Sam?”

Dean is quiet for a long moment. “We went into foster care for a while.” He says finally. “I aged out pretty fast, but it was a while before I could get custody of Sam.” He looks up to the couch, where his brother is drooling against the arm rest. “Doesn't matter. We're here now. We've got each other and that... that's what matters.” He nods absentmindedly to himself.

Castiel, sleepy, and lulled into a sense of familiarity by his close proximity to Dean, asks, “Do you want to get married.”

“Uh. What?”

“I mean, do you plan on it? Do you ever think about settling down, having a family?”

“Wha- fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder.

Dean, surprisingly, laughs. He grins, mouth quirking up on one side. “Uh, yeah, okay.” He leans back against the couch next to Gabriel's leg. “Um. Sometimes I think about... a family.” He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I don't know. That's a long way away, in any case. I don't really like to think about the future, to be completely honest.”

“Hmm. Okay, I get that.”

“What about you?”

“I always just assumed I'd die a lonely old hermit.”

“Dude!”

“I'm kidding! No, but really, I just- I never thought about it, I guess.”

“You never thought about it?”

“Nope.”

“Why'd you ask?”

“I guess... I was wondering what you're going to do once Sam goes to Stanford.”

And, just like that, Dean's face shutters closed. The smile drops off his face, his eyes dart away from Castiel's. He purses his lips.

“Um...” He says.

“Oh,” Castiel sits up straighter, realizing his mistake. “You know what? It doesn't matter. That's a long way away, anyway.”

Dean swallows, and Castiel can practically see him trying to pull himself back together. Struck by the urge to offer some form of comfort, Castiel reaches out and puts his hand on Dean's arm.

Dean looks up at him again, green eyed gaze like a tractor beam. Castiel can't look away, and so they're just sitting there, staring at each other. He watches Dean lick his lips, and the action sends electric jolts of longing down his spine. He doesn't know where they came from, but they rush through him with a fury. He could kiss Dean, he realizes. He could just lean forward, not even that much. It would take almost no effort.

“Let's do something on your list.” Dean interrupts his thoughts.

Castiel, in a bit of a daze, takes a moment to respond. “What?”

Dean grabs the remote from the floor and pauses the movie. “Come on.” He says. He stands, then extends his hand to Castiel.

Castiel takes it, and lets himself be pulled to his feet. Dean's grip is strong, his hands are warm, and when Castiel stands he can see the freckles littered across Dean's nose and cheeks.

“What are-”

“Come on,” Dean says again, grabbing Castiel's wrist, pulling him toward the door, list still gripped tightly in his other hand.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asks as Dean opens the front door. “Am I going to need shoes?”

“Nah,” Dean tells him. “Your socks should be fine.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Okay, so are you going to tell me where we're going?”

“No way.” Dean says once they're out in the hallway. They head up the stairs, covered in stained blue carpeting, to the next floor. “You just gotta trust me.”

“Um...”

“Dude, chill. I'm not gonna murder you, I promise.”

Castiel huffs, but stays quiet as they ascend another level, and another, and another, until they reach a door at the very top.

“The roof?” Castiel guesses. “We're going to the roof? What for?”

Dean doesn't answer, he pushes the door open and ushers Castiel out. Next to the door is a thick block of wood as long as his forearm, and he uses it to prop the door open.

The concrete roof is cold beneath Castiel's socked feet, and wind tugs at his hair, but otherwise it's pretty neat. They're high up, and he can see the city in a new way, everything suddenly seems so small. There are lots of air ducts up here, and metal contraptions that Castiel can't even guess the function of.

“Here,” Says Dean, coming up behind him. He puts his hands on Castiel's shoulders and turns him so that he's facing the opposite direction, and _there_ it is. The sunrise.

The eastern sky is awash with color. Oranges, purples, and pinks mix together like melted crayons, spreading out to welcome the new day.

“Whoa.” Castiel breathes.

He stands there, looking at the sky, for a long time. He doesn't say anything else, and neither does Dean, who's hands are still on his shoulders.

This feels like a Big moment. The vastness of the universe is clear in this moment, as well as Castiel's own smallness. But it's not bad, he feels like a part of things. He feels... calm.

“Thank you.” Castiel says after a while.

Dean squeezes his shoulders. “Cool, isn't it?”

“It's beautiful.”

 

They stand there until the sun has risen a little higher, and they have to look away. Castiel is in a daze as they walk back down to the apartment. He feels a little unreal, light-headed, and he sort of wants to run his fingers along the walls. Or he would, if there wasn't so much grime all over the place.

They get back to the apartment, and Castiel finds that he doesn’t really want to sit back down. He wants to finish watching Return of the King, sure, but not right now.

“Do you want to... go somewhere?” He asks Dean, currently nosing around in the refrigerator.

“What?”

“I want to go do something.”

“We just did something.”

“Well, yeah. But it kind of just made me want to do _more_ things! Have you ever been on a boat? I want to go on a boat! Or maybe rollerblading?”

Dean closes the fridge door, abandoning his search in favor of coming over to Castiel. “Slow down, man.” He says. “I don't know about you, but I’ve been up for like twelve hours now. I don't think now is the time to be acting on, well, _any_ ideas.”

“But I need to do more things!”

Dean looks at him, eyes soft. He walks over to the kitchen table, where he's set Castiel's list.

“C'mere.” He says, picking up a pen. He holds it out. “Mark it off.”

Castiel's fingers brush Dean's as he takes the pen, and his skin tingles at the contact.

Marking, “Never watched the sunrise” off of his list, far from calming him down, makes his veins buzz with energy. He looks over the rest of his list.

“Do you have any alcohol?” He asks.

Dean laughs. “It's five in the morning.”

“So what?”

“So no. We can do that one another time.”

Castiel huffs. “Fine. Teach me how to curse!”

“Man, are you kidding me?”

“No. I don't know how.”

“You just... do it, dude.”

“But I- I don't know where to start.”

Dean looks at him for a long moment, chewing on his bottom lip. “Say “fuck”.”

“Umm...”

“Come on, you can do it.” Dean says, bemusedly.

Castiel scowls. “Fuck.” He says finally.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I did!” Castiel protests.

Dean shrugs.

“Fuck.” Castiel says again.

“I'm not feelin' it.”

“Fuck you!” Castiel spits.

Dean laughs. “There it is! Yes! Perfect.”

Castiel smiles, swelling with pride.

“Come watch the rest of the movie and we'll work on it more.”

“Okay!” Says Castiel.

They watch the rest of The Return of the King, and they both fall asleep on the floor, Castiel with his head on Dean's shoulder.


	6. Harrison Ford Can Get It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve, everybody! I hope you all have a great holiday, and that no one gets into any arguments with problematic relatives.

The first time Castiel sets foot inside Cuffs, it's partially do to boredom, and partially do to desperation. He's been sitting in the apartment all day, out of new books to read, out of movies to watch, and Gabriel doesn't have cable. It's too hot to stay outside for long, he doesn't know how to drive, and he has no job, so he doesn't have money to do anything. He's been alternatively laying on the couch and going to stare forlornly into the empty refrigerator, neither of which are terribly helpful.

So, after much deliberation, he decides to try it out. He decides to try out working at Cuffs. Gabriel is already down there, working his shift, and it feels like a good idea. Castiel gets dressed and goes downstairs, to the backdoor of Cuffs. He has to psych himself up a bit beforehand, but when he finally opens the door and steps inside, he finds himself in a surprisingly normal looking break room.

He walks slowly through, past the small microwave on the 1970's mint green counter top, a rickety table with mismatched chairs, a mini-fridge in the corner making an honestly worrying squealing noise.

When he exits the break room via a door opposite the one he came in, he does find himself in between an aisle of vibrators and an aisle of what looks to be edible tattoos and undergarments, but it's surprisingly clean and well set up.

The store is small, but seems to be well stocked, although Castiel can't really say _what_ it's stocked with. Most of the things he sees are completely foreign to him, with uses he can't even guess at.

At the front of the store is a small counter, with a cash register atop it and a little bench behind it. Gabriel sits here, flipping through a magazine.

“Looking at porn?” Castiel says, coming up next to him, trying to sound nonchalant, like he's _not_ completely out of his element here.

Gabriel looks up, unsurprised, and shoots him an unamused frown. He holds up the magazine, which turns out to be a Game Informer.

“I don't read porn at work.” He says. “What? You think I’m some kind of weirdo?”

“Um...” Castiel hesitates.

Gabriel gives him the finger, and then a thoughtful look. “Why are you here?” He asks. “I thought you'd, like, shrivel up and die or something if you set foot into my den of iniquity.”

Castiel takes a deep breath, and lets it out though his nose, trying to calm himself. He ignores the rack of adult videos to his right, focusing on his cousin.

“I um. Well. Okay, so, i'd like to... take you up on that offer.”

“What offer?”

“The offer to, you know, help you with the books and stuff? Is that still open?”

“Um, _yes_ it's still open!” Gabriel shouts, throwing down his magazine. “I got no fuckin' idea what I’m doing!”

Castiel puffs out his chest a little, and straightens his shirt. “Well then it's a good thing you have me then, isn't it?”

Gabriel laughs, picks the magazine, and throws it at him. “Sure is, nerd. I assume you'll be wanting some sort of financial compensation.”

“Well yeah,” Castiel says. “Whatever you feel like. I don't need much, but I’d like, you know, something.”

“I'll pay you minimum wage, dude, I’m not into slave labor.”

“Okay, well... okay. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Gabriel says, bemusedly. “C'mon, I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

 

The books aren't nearly as bad as Gabriel made them out to be, a little unorganized, but not unsalvageable. Castiel may not be an accountant, but he's good with numbers. Better than Gabriel by a long shot, and when he sits down at the break-room table with the paperwork, he almost feels like he belongs. He watches the numbers line up just like they're supposed to, and he's overcome by a sense of calm like he hasn't felt in a very long time. He knows what he's doing right here, right now, this makes sense to him. He lets out a long, relieved breath, and he works.

 

-o-

 

Castiel wakes screaming. He's not sure why exactly, but he's terrified. His veins buzz with adrenaline, his legs are trapped by something and it sends a jolt of fear up his spine, he can't move, _he can't move_!

And then- Gabriel is there, helping him sit up, pulling him into an embrace.

“Hey- hey, it's okay.” His cousin says. “It was a dream, you had a dream!”

Castiel stills, gripping the back of Gabriel's pajama shirt desperately. “A dream.” He whispers.

“A dream.” Gabriel assures him. “Just a dream. You're safe.”

Just like that, all of Castiel's energy leaves him. He slumps forward onto his cousin, feeling suddenly exhausted and empty. His hands are trembling, he can feel it, but he can't seem to make them be still. He turns his head into Gabriel's shoulder, and the next thing he knows, he's crying. It's humiliating, and he hates crying in front of people but, once again, he can't seem to stop it.

“Sorry.” It comes out more whimpery than he means it to, and a fresh wave of embarrassment rears its head.

“It's okay, Cassie.” Gabriel says, running a surprisingly soothing hand up and down Castiel's back. “It happens. I gotcha, alright?”

“Okay.” Castiel whispers. He closes his eyes, and lets his cousin hug him for a while. He finds that he can't go back to sleep, though. He just isn't tired and, besides that, there's an underlying sense of dread he feels when he thinks of sleeping. He has no control over what happens when he's asleep. He doesn't like being helpless.

So he stays awake, although it's just about four o' clock in the morning, he wanders around the apartment long after Gabriel has gone back to sleep. He eats some freezer-burnt rocky-road ice cream, he cleans Gabriel's coffee table, he sighs a lot. There are lots of things he could do, but he can't find an ounce of motivation to do any of them at all. He ends up standing at the living room window staring forlornly out into the dark. The view is abysmal, just the top of the ice-cream shop next door, but looking out of windows always makes Castiel introspective. He thinks of the night he spent at the Winchester's, of the time he spent on the roof, watching the sun rise.

He wants to feel that way again, like he's part of something, at one with the universe. He wants that dizzy, knowing feeling back.

He puts on his socks and pads out of apartment. There's no getting to the roof, but he stands out on the landing and looks up at the stars, shining high above through the darkness. If he extends his hand up, toward the sky, he can imagine that he's touching them.

The sky is beautiful, vast and dark. It's like he's looking into the depths of the sea, and he feels like there could be any number of strange, unknown things out there in the deep. He inhales deeply, breathing the smell of the night, of smoke, gasoline, and trash. Lots and lots of trash.

Nevertheless, it has the desired affect. He feels connected, once again. He feels the pull of the stars on his skin, can almost see the strings binding him to every other person.

It's slightly less profound than before though, and, as he thinks about it, Castiel finds he misses the weight of Dean's hand on his shoulder. With it, he had been connected physically as well. He feels its absence clearly, like a cold spot on his arm. But this is still a beautiful moment, and Castiel won't let it be spoiled by the absence of a boy he barely knows. He steadies himself on the landing's railing, and takes in the sight long after he should have gone inside. He'll have mosquito bites tomorrow, he knows, but it's worth it. It's so, very worth it.

Unlike the time he watched the sunrise, stargazing leaves him feeling... calm. His mind is clear, the clamoring that usually keeps him buzzing is nothing but a whisper. He can close his eyes and not think anything at all. When he breathes out, it's like he's breathing out his fear, his anxiety, his tension, until he's nothing but a husk. A very very calm husk. And when he breathes in, he fills up with the stars. The night is inside him, above him, around him, and everything is all right.

When he finally goes back inside the apartment he falls into bed and goes right to sleep. He dreams of flying through the stars as a beam of light. It's the best dream he's had in years.

 

-o-

 

Wednesdays become a sort of official “Do Something On Castiel's List” day. Dean doesn't work on Wednesdays, Gabriel hires a new part-time girl and has her work Wednesdays, and Sam and Castiel are free pretty much any time.

The first week, they go to the zoo. There's a fairly large one about forty-five minutes away, and so the four of them pile into Dean's big car and make the drive. Dean even lets Castiel sit up front with him because “it's his trip”.

The zoo is amazing. This one has elephants and monkeys and birds and even penguins. There are even some peacocks just roaming around, which is totally weird. In the reptile house, Dean sneaks up behind Castiel and grabs his sides while making a hissing noise, scaring him so badly that he elbows Dean in the stomach out of reflex. Sam and Gabriel think this is hilarious, while Castiel is mortified. Dean, after he's done clutching his stomach and groaning, affirms that it _is_ hilarious, and Castiel packs a hell of a wallop when he wants to. He sounds impressed, and Castiel absolutely does _not_ blush, thank you very much.

At the big cat enclosure, Dean picks Castiel up bodily and pretends like he's going to toss him over the fence which, of course, gets them into trouble. They don't get kicked out, but they do get a stern warning.

Castiel is unused to this sort of teasing, but it feels kind of nice. Not only is he part of a group, but he's accepted enough for playful banter and kidding around. That's a new one.

The drive home is nice too, Castiel falls asleep to the dulcet tones of Electric Six, with the smell of sun-warmed leather surrounding him. He wakes to a hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Hey, hey Cas.” Comes a voice.

Castiel blinks slowly, letting his eyes adjust to harsh light of day. When things come into focus, he finds Dean leaning over him, smiling genially down.

“Wha?”

Dean laughs. “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

Castiel scowls up at him. “Where are we?” He mumbles. “Why'd you wake me up?”

“We're at a diner.” Dean explains. “We're stopping to eat.”

Castiel turns his head to the back seat, which is empty, but when he looks out the window he finds Sam and Gabriel leaning against the side of the car.

“Oh, okay.” Says Castiel, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. Without thinking, he holds out his hands for Dean to help him up. The man takes his hands and pulls him up gently, and then goes ahead and pulls him right out the driver's side. Castiel is still half-asleep though, and he falls against Dean, legs wobbly like jelly. Dean just loops his arm easily around Castiel's middle and props him up as they move around the car.

“I got Rip Van Winkle.” Dean tells Sam and Gabriel.

“I thought I was Sleeping Beauty.” Castiel grumbles petulantly.

“You're the prettiest princess in the kingdom!” Says Gabriel, throwing an arm around Castiel's shoulder. “But, lets face it, you _are_ also an old man.”

Castiel sighs. “It's true.”

“Aw, come on.” Sam interjects. “I know some super cool old men.”

“That's true.” Says Dean. “Harrison Ford is like seventy and he can still get it.”

“Gross, Dean.” Says Sam.

Dean shrugs. “I speak only the truth.”

“That doesn't mean I want to hear which old men my brother would fuck.”

“Hey, in my defense, I’d do Carrie Fisher too.”

“What the fuck, Dean?”

“I bet she knows some kinky shit.” Dean muses.

“Bye.” Sam says, turning on his heel and walking into the diner.

“ _I_ , on the other hand, would like to continue this conversation.” Gabriel pipes up. “ _Buuuuuuut_ lets get some food first, whad'ya say?”

“I have many opinions.” Dean says, affecting a lofty air, tightening his arm almost imperceptibly around Castiel's waist. “And I am also ravenous, good sir!”

“Oh, ho ho!” Gabriel cries. “Let us enter this eatery, and consume some lunch, with fervor!”

“After you, my friend.”

“No no, after you!

It's at this point that that Sam sticks his head back out the door. “Come on, guys, I got us a booth.”

“You're a saint!” Says Gabriel.

Castiel ends up next to Dean, across from Gabriel, with his leg next to Dean's on the cracked plastic seat. Their knees keep brushing, and Castiel finds himself fighting the urge to press his leg against Dean's on purpose, to feel the warm line of the other man's flesh against his own. He tries not to think too much about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Castiel's list, currently.](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap6)


	7. Matters of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everybody!  
> I hope you all have a great time tonight, and a great 2016! I know i'm looking forward to seeing the back of 2015.
> 
> There's probably some typos because I just finished this chapter, because i'm a lazy piece of shit.

The Jurassic Park movies are up for their next “sleepover” or “pajama party” or whatever they're calling it. Movie night/”do something on Castiel's list” time. They're slowly working their way through a list of movies, comprised mostly by Dean, that are apparently essential for Castiel's health and well-being. Thus far they've gotten through the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Clerks 1 and 2, Galaxy Quest and Dogma.

They end the Jurassic Park marathon with the newest movie, Jurassic World, which has Castiel mesmerized by Chris Pratt's arms.

“No, I just- I feel like he could just pick me up and carry me around.” He tries to explain, after speaking his thoughts aloud.

“Okay,” Gabriel laughs. “So _why_ is Chris Pratt carrying you around?”

“Just _theoretically_ -”

“Did you fall in your high heels?” Gabriel asks.

“Maybe he swooned too hard.” Dean suggests, earning a glare from Castiel. He nudges the boy with his elbow, from where he sits next to him on the couch. “Did'ya swoon and fall into his big, strong arms?”

Castiel huffs. “I was just making an observation.”

“Aw, leave him alone.” Says Sam. “It's not like you don't talk about David Bowie's super tight pants _every_ time we watch Labyrinth.”

“Have you _seen_ his pants?” Dean asks, not really defending himself.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Lets not get on the topic of Bowie's pants.”

“What's Labyrinth?” Castiel asks.

At once, everyone turns to look at him.

“ _Oh_ my god.” Says Dean. “Are you in for a fuckin' treat.”

 

Supper is a hassle. More than a hassle, really, it's nearly impossible to get something that everyone likes.

Tomato and onion is the only sort of pizza Castiel likes, which the others are apparently personally offended by. He likes chinese food, but not mexican. Dean likes any pizza with meat on it, but chinese and mexican give him heart-burn anymore. He likes greasy fast food, but Sam makes all sorts of disappointed noises when he goes that route. Sam goes for health foods. He doesn't eat pizza at all, and he won't do fast foods. Gabriel will eat anything if it has enough cheese on it.

They end up calling three different delivery places: China Palace, Corey's Pizza, and a new place called The Garden that Sam is absolutely nuts for.

All three delivery people get to the apartment at about the same time, and they all look very confused when Dean finally opens the door. In the disorder that follows, Dean accidentally tips the guy from China Palace a fifty, Gabriel manages to offend the delivery girl from The Garden, and someone (no one is quite sure who) drops all their bread sticks on the ground. They're still okay though, Gabriel assures them, before eating them all himself.

When everyone has finished eating, things are much quieter. Everyone is sated and a little sleepy. Sam and Gabriel are talking about something, but their voices are growing muted, the cartoons playing on the television are beginning to run together as Castiel slips closer to sleep.

But then Dean is yawning loudly, stretching his arms high above his head, and tossing something to Castiel.

“Here,” He says. “I got somethin' for your list.”

Castiel does not catch the thing. He's uncoordinated at the best of times, but now he's also hazy and slow from sleep. The thing lands near his feet, and he doesn't even make an effort to catch it.

“What is it?” He wonders.

“Pick it up and look, asshole.” Dean tells him, not unkindly.

When he finally reaches down and picks up the thing, he finds himself holding a pack of cigarettes. Marlboro Blacks.

“What?” He asks.

“That was on your list, wasn't it?” Dean asks him. “You wanted to smoke a cigarette, right?”

Castiel shrugs. “Maybe I shouldn't, though.” He muses.

“One cigarette isn't gonna kill you, dude.” Gabriel chimes in. “You don't even have to smoke the whole thing.”

“Don't pressure him!” Says Sam. “God, you guys sound like those kids who are always hanging out under the bleachers in after school specials.”

Dean throws the tv remote at Sam, it hits him in the arm and falls onto the floor. “I'm not pressuring him, nerd!” He objects. “He can say no if he wants to, it was just a suggestion. Right, Cas?”

Castiel, who has lately realized that he has an ever growing, ever concerning need to agree with Dean at all times, nods eagerly. “Right.” He says.

Sam frowns, but Dean continues. “See there? He knows what's up, calm your tits.”

“You calm _your_ tits.” Sam grumbles mutinously.

“What do you say, Cas?” Dean asks, ignoring Sam's remark.

Castiel thinks for just a moment. “Okay,” He says, quietly. “I'll try one.”

“Attaboy!”Says Dean. “C'mon.” He stands, and offers his hand to Castiel, who takes it and lets himself be pulled to his feet. He brushes himself off, and follows Dean to their living room window. The man opens it, and leans against the sill before producing a lighter from his pocket. He hands the thing to Castiel, who holds it like it might spontaneously combust.

“How... how do I do it?” He asks.

“You just smoke it.” Says Dean.

“Yes, _thank you_.” Castiel huffs. “That's very informative.”

Dean, far from looking offended, grins at him.

“Here,” Says Gabriel, coming up beside them. “I'll show you.”

And he does. Surprisingly, Gabriel is the one who is the most helpful in this situation. As much as Castiel loves his cousin, it isn’t a situation that happens often.

Castiel does not like smoking, as it turns out, but he does like crossing things off of his list, and now he gets to do another. He gets such a rush of satisfaction out of it, such a feeling of accomplishment. It's like, no matter what else is going on, for a moment, he's doing things right. He's accomplished something.

 

Castiel has gotten so used to his nightmares that they almost don't even scare him anymore. Okay, that's a lie, they scare him just as much as they ever did. He _has_ gotten slightly better at dealing with them though, and can usually get himself calmed down before he wakes Gabriel up.

Tonight, though, he has a particularly bad one. Maybe it's all the excitement of the night, maybe it's something about sleeping in a strange place, or on the floor- although the Winchesters have made sure that he and Gabriel are as comfortable as possible. In any case, he wakes up screaming again.

He can feel hands on his upper arms as he comes to, and he expects it to be Gabriel, but when he opens his eyes he's met with Dean instead. Dean, with his worried green eyes and his freckly nose, is leaning over him, hair haloed by the soft light coming from the living room window.

“Cas! Cas, wake up!” Dean says, quietly as he can. “You're dreaming, man. You're okay, it's just a dream.”

Castiel's hands come up to grip Dean's biceps, because he needs to hold on to _something_ , and this seems to startle Dean a little, but he doesn't pull away.

Castiel glances at the couch, but his cousin isn't there like he was earlier. His dream has left him rattled and raw, and he can feel himself starting to panic. His hands are shaking, and he's digging his fingernails into Dean's arm muscles before he knows it.

“Hey, whoa.” Dean says, calmly. “It's okay. You're okay. Here, you wanna sit up?”

Castiel nods shakily, and Dean helps him sit up, hands firm and gentle. But as soon as he's up, the bottom falls out of his terror and he's just sobbing into his hands there in the middle of the living room floor.

He has several long moments to feel mortified before Dean is wrapping his arms around Castiel and pulling him close against his chest. He presses one firm hand to the middle of Castiel's back, and the other to the back of his neck, and tucks the crying boy close to him.

“I got'cha.” He murmurs. “You're okay. It's okay. I've got'cha.”

“Sorry,” Castiel whispers, blubbering wetly.

“It's okay.” Dean tells him again. He lets Castiel cry until he's merely sniffling.

Slowly, Castiel comes back to himself, and eventually he realizes that his face is pressed to bare shoulder. When he pulls back a little, sniffing and wiping the tears from his face with the heels of his hands, a bare chest comes into view. And bare arms, and... bare legs. Dean is just sitting here, holding him, wearing only a pair of Oscar The Grouch boxers.

“Um,” Says Castiel.

“Heh,” Dean laughs sheepishly, looking down at himself. “Yeah, I didn't really have time to put on much.”

“That's alright,” Castiel tells him, despite the fact that he can feel the color rising in his cheeks. He averts his eyes. “Where, uh, where's Gabriel?”

Dean looks around, eyes catching on the light bleeding from beneath the bathroom door. “The john, looks like.”

Castiel sighs, and slumps back into his pile of pillows and blankets. “Thanks.” He says shortly. It's inadequate, but what else can he say?

“No problem. You gonna be able to sleep?”

“No.” Castiel admits.

Dean frowns, and thinks for a moment. “You want to watch tv with me in my room? We can sit up and eat cookies.”

“You don't have to do that, you need your sleep-”

“I was up anyway.” Dean tells him.

“What about Gabriel?”

“Gabe'll be fine.” Dean says dismissively. “He'll figure out where you are, if he's awake enough to notice you're gone.”

“That's fair.” Castiel agrees. Gabriel isn't exactly the most observant, especially when sleepy.

Dean helps him to his feet, hands firm on Castiel's arms.

“Here, um,” Dean says once they're standing. “Why don't you grab snacks from the kitchen, and I'm gonna just, uh, pick up a few things in my room real quick.”

“Okay,” Castiel says, watching as Dean scurries quickly back to his room. He makes his way quietly to the kitchen, doing his best to avoid creaking floorboards. He rifles through the cabinets, moving slowly to minimize the noise, avoiding snacks with loud wrappers. About the time he has his hands full, Dean comes padding into the kitchen. He grabs a few more things, not seeming to caare at all about making too much noise, and motions for Castiel to follow him.

Dean's room is dark, the only light comes from the small television sitting on a chest at the end of the bed, muted and set on cartoons. Castiel makes out the shape of bookshelves, a dresser, what looks like a pile of clothes on the floor.

Dean dumps the snacks into the middle of the bed and slides on, leaing back agianst the headboard and patting the space next to him. Castiel puts his snacks with Dean's and climbs up after him.

Leaning back agianst the headboard next to Dean, Castiel can't help but think that this is all very surreal. He's in a boy's room, in a boy's bed, at night. It's just, it's strange. He feels the soft blankets beneath him, Dean shifting beside him, and it definitely seems like something he's dreamed up. He can smell the man everywhere too, this room is full of concentrated Dean Scent. It's not a bad smell, Castiel might go as far as to say he likes it a lot, actually. It's something deep, earthy, and musky. It kind of reminds him of trees somehow, without quite smelling like trees at all. Castiel always smells it on Dean, and Dean's clothes, but here, it's absolutely everywhere. He breathes it in, as subtly as he can, and lets it relax him. He tries not to think about the fact that if he stays in here very long _he's_ going to smell like it as well.

“I hope you like Arthur.” Dean says, startling Castiel out of his thoughts. “Because that's all that's on.”

“I love Arthur!” Castiel declares. “That was one I was actually allowed to watch.”

So they settle in, and for a while they're silent. They just watch the tv show, and Castiel lets himself relax, feeling warm and safe and comfortable.

“Hey,” Dean says softly, after a while. “Can I ask you sort of a personal question?”

“Okay,” Castiel replies.

Dean reaches up to rub his nose. “So this, uh, this whole religion thing. How are you doing with that?”

Castiel blinks a few times. “I don't understand the question.”

“Well, I mean, the whole loss of faith. Kind of a shock, isn't it? Are you, you know, doing okay?”

“I've been worse.” Castiel states.

“'Cause if you wanna talk about it...” Dean shrugs. “I'm always around.”

Castiel turns his head away from the television to look at at Dean, at the profile of his face, lit up by the soft glow of the tv.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asks.

Dean nods. “I love secrets.”

For a moment, Castiel stays quiet, figuring out his words in his head. “I've never been good at... faith.” He tells Dean. “Not blind faith, anyway. I always had too many questions, too many doubts, you know? Faith, for the sake of having faith, has just never made any sense to me. And I...” He takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “I never _felt_ religion, you know what I mean?”

Dean's brow furrows. “Not really.” He admits.

“Just, people at church were always talking about talking to God and walking with God, or having dreams or “feeling his presence”. Or like, speaking in tongues? I never felt _any_ of that.

And I tried. I really, really did. I did everything they told me, I tried everything I could think of. And I felt... nothing. I've been to revival meetings where everyone was saying they felt God so well, and people were, like, speaking in tongues and jumping up and down and all sorts of stuff. But for me, there was nothing. I don't know why. I always thought maybe I was just doing it wrong. Maybe I just wasn't _good_ enough. But i'm not sure about that anymore.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I'm not sure I ever really believed in any of it. I think I was just playing along. I told everybody, including myself, that I believed, because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. And now it almost... well, it's kind of a relief to not have to pretend anymore.”

He trails off, and everything is quiet.

“Shit, man.” Dean says, after a thoughtful silence.

Castiel nods. That about sums it up.

“I... have no idea what to say right now.”

Despite the gravity of the moment, Castiel laughs. “You don't have to say anything. I just... I don't know, wanted to tell somebody, I guess.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” He sounds so genuine, and he looks so touched, that Castiel is seized by the sudden urge give him a hug. And since he's trying new things, and branching out, and trying to open up and all that, he does it. He leans over and throws his arms around Dean's neck, pressing his face into the man's shoulder.

“Whoa!” Dean exclaims, startled, but his arms come up to encircle Castiel right away, so it must be okay.

“Thank you for listening to me.” He whispers.

“I like listening to you.” Dean says.

Castiel pulls back, cheeks tinged pink, to smile at Dean, who smiles back.

They eat snacks and watch tv into the early morning until Castiel falls into a dreamless sleep, head resting on Dean's bare shoulder, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap7).


	8. Purple Is Your Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only just now finished writing this chapter, but I'm a procrastinating piece of shit.  
> Thank you to toriftw and Dash for beta reading this!  
> And thank you guys so much for reading and commenting, it really makes things seem worth while.
> 
> Also, before everyone freaks out, Meg is not evil in this story. She's just a girl. Kinda weird, sometimes a dick, but not evil.

 

Everything is very warm. Castiel feels... snug. There's a warmth beneath him, and a steady thumping noise, very quiet, like it's far away, that keeps trying to lull him back to sleep. He shifts, and becomes aware of the solidness of the warmth.

He blinks, slowly, and through his hazy, sleep-filled eyes comes the vision of a broad chest beneath his cheek. It takes him a moment to gather himself, but when he wakes a little more he remembers watching cartoons with Dean last night, and maybe falling asleep against the man.

Well, they seem to have shifted during the night, because now they're laying down, blanket over top of them. Castiel is half on top of Dean, arm thrown over his chest, head resting on a firm, but surprisingly comfortable pectoral. One of his legs is hiked up over Dean's.

He'd probably feel more embarrassed, but Dean has an arm around him, wrapped around his waist, and his face is currently buried in Castiel's hair.

As it is, Castiel lets himself feel absolutely mortified for several long minutes, before coming to the conclusion that this very nice, platonic cuddling must have been mutual, and there's nothing he can do about it now. And besides, he's comfortable. And Dean smells nice.

Castiel closes his eyes again, and basks in Dean's warmth until the man begins to stir beneath him. He hears Dean sniff, feels him stretch a little, then feels his hand slide down to rest lazily on Castiel's hip.

“Mornin',” Dean grunts.

“Good morning.” Castiel says, not looking up at Dean. “Um,” He starts, trying to figure how to extricate himself from this situation without making things awkward. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

Dean laughs, his fingers curl on Castiel's hip.

“It's okay,” He says. “I-”

But he doesn't get to finish his thought, because the door bursts inward, and a disheveled Gabriel comes barreling through.

“Dean!” He nearly shouts, sounding panicked. “Have you seen-” He stops short, taking in the scene in front of him. “Cassie! Jesus Christ, man, I thought you were _gone_.”

Castiel sits up quickly, trying to extricate himself from Dean and the blankets, and having little luck.

“Um, no. I'm here.” He says, struggling.

Gabriel blinks once, then twice. “Okay.” He says, “Since we've established that you're not gone, I think we can move on to _what the fuck_?! Did you guys hook up? When then fuck did that happen?”

“No, no!” Castiel tries to explain. “That's not-”

“Holy shit, do I need to have the sex talk with you, because I don't think I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“No!”

Gabriel looks at Dean. “Do I need to have the “Don't Hurt Him Or I'll Break Your Face” talk with you?”

Dean, still just laying there calmly while Castiel flails beside him, sighs.

Castiel finally gives up trying to untangle his feet and just rolls off of the bed into a graceless heap. He pulls himself upright, still trapped, but determined to be dignified. “No!” He snaps. “We didn't _do_ anything! I had a bad dream, alright? I had a nightmare and you weren't there, so Dean said I could sit with him and I fell asleep.”

Gabriel falters. “I... wasn't there?”

“I think you were in the bathroom.”

Gabriel's face crumples. “I'm sorry.” He says. “I should have been there.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It's not your fault. And anyway, it was alright.”

Gabriel scrunches up his nose and rakes a hand through his hair. “Sorry guys.” He says, coughing sheepishly . “For, you know, assuming. And freaking out. And busting into your room. Heh.”

“It's whatever, man.” Dean says, throwing his arm up above his head. “I'm pretty protective of my brother too, so,” He shrugs, acknowledging their brotherly camaraderie. “If I thought Sam was fucking some dude I'd probably freak too.”

“We're cousins, not brothers.” Castiel corrects him, huffing. He has finally managed to extricate one foot from the blanket mess, and is now working on the other.

Dean shrugs again. “You're close enough to be siblings, aren't you?”

Both boys are quiet for a moment. Gabriel looks away and shuffles his feet nervously.

“Yeah,” Castiel says finally. He looks at Gabriel. “I would consider you a brother. I love you.”

“Aww,” Says Gabriel, face going scarlet. “Gettin' all fuckin' sappy.” He mumbles. “Fuck. Love you too. Whatever. Ya son of a bitch.” He frowns, before turning on his heel and leaving the room quickly.

“Touching.” Dean says.

Castiel finally gets his other foot free, then promptly falls on his ass.

“Dammit!” He spits.

Dean grins at him. “Hey, I think you're finally getting it!”

“It?”

“Swearing, man. I think you're finally learning to swear. You've been getting it, well, _mostly_ right lately, anyway.”

Castiel grins up at him from the floor. “You think so?”

“I sure do.”

“Thanks.” Castiel says, earnestly.

Dean's muscles move subtly beneath his skin as he lifts his head and puts his arm beneath it. He sticks his foot out from beneath the blanket and nudges Castiel's shoulder with it.

“You've come a long way, kid.” He says.

 

-o-

 

The new girl Gabriel hired to work in the shop is named Meg. She's what Gabriel calls “rough around the edges”.

When Castiel comes down into the shop to get this week's paperwork, she's lounging at the front desk, leaned as far back as her rickety little chair will go, feet up on the counter. She's got a magazine open in front of her, and she's chewing gum louder than Castiel thought possible.

“'sup Clarence?” She says, smacking her lips.

“Uh, hello, Meg.” Castiel greets her. He's still not quite used to her penchant for calling him any name that starts with “C” that she can think of, besides his own, but it no longer confuses him like it did at first.

“Ya here for a toy?” Meg asks, grinning lasciviously. “'cause we just got in a shipment and I saw a sparkly purple dildo that just had your name written _all_ over it.”

Castiel goes bright red. He can't see it, but his face feels like it's on fire, so he assumes. “I- I do not-” He sputters. “need a dildo, thank you _very much_.”

He frowns and brushes past her, leaning over to get to the filing cabinet that sits under the counter. Meg takes this chance to reach over and pinch his ass.

Castiel jerks upright and smacks at her hand. “Meg!” He reprimands.

“Sorry, sorry.” She says, rollers her eyes. “Forgot your gay ass was off limits.” She smacks it one more time for good measure.

“I'm not gay.” He hisses. “I just don't want you groping me!”

She pouts. “Aww, why not?”

Meg doesn't get an answer though, because it's at that moment that the bell over the door chimes and in walks Dean. He's got on tight jeans and a light blue button-down over an AC/DC t-shirt. Castiel only notices because it makes Dean look like he's just stepped out of a magazine, and it makes him a little weak at the knees.

“Yow.” Says Meg, sitting up.

Dean grins and leans against the counter, resting one arm in front of the other. “Hey Cas.” He says.

Castiel grips the edge of the counter. “Hi Dean.”

“Oh,” Meg sighs. “ _That's_ why.”

“What, uh, what are you doing here?” Castiel asks, after clearing his throat. “Don't you have work?”

“Got off early.” Dean explains. “Me and Sam came to see if you wanted to hang. Gabe said you were down here.”

“Oh, yes, I was just-”

“Lookin' at toys.” Meg interrupts, to Castiel's horror. “I was just telling him that this,” She reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a plastic wrapped dildo, purple, sparkly. “Is just his color. Would look great on him, don't you think?”

Dean's smile slips away and his eyes widen, beneath his freckles and sun-kissed skin, a blush blooms on his cheeks. “Um,” He says.

“She's joking!” Castiel all but shrieks. He flails, maybe as a distraction, he's not quite sure. He hits the dildo and it goes flying out of Meg's hand, spins across the floor, and disappears under a display case.

“Wonderful.” Says Meg, leaving her seat reluctantly to go after the merchandise.

While she's distracted, Castiel quickly grabs the paperwork he's after, then Dean's arm, and rushes the both of them out of the shop.

Outside, he breathes a sigh of relief.

“I am _so_ sorry.” He says.

Dean laughs, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Nah, it's okay.” He says. “It _was_ your color.”

“Y-you-” Castiel stutters. He's so stunned he almost drops his papers. “What in-”

Dean smiles big, and Castiel has had just about enough of his teasing.

“I am _leaving_!” He huffs, turning on his heel and stomping away. He hears Dean laugh and call out to him, but he keeps walking. He flips Dean the bird over his shoulder, and the man laughs harder.

 

“We're going to the fair!” Dean says, once Castiel makes his way to the car. Sam is sprawled out in the back seat with a books. Gabriel has declined his invitation, on the grounds that he has a date tonight.

“The fair?” Castiel asks. “What fair?”

“Peach Blossom fair.” Dean tells him. “They close off two whole streets downtown for a week. And we are going!”

Castiel frowns. “Peach Blossom...? I... haven’t seen a single peach tree here. Um, ever.”

“Yeah, I don't know. Who gives a fuck , though, right? We get a festival.”

Castiel laughs. “Okay, festival it is.”

The Lawrence Peach Blossom Festival is a pretty big event, turns out. Two streets of food trucks and rides of questionable integrity. Castiel gets to try deep fried oreos, and deep fried cookie dough, and deep fried ice cream, Dean's treat. Dean stuffs his face with more pies than Castiel thought a person could actually eat. Sam frowns disapprovingly at both of them.

Then there are the rides. And yes, riding a roller coaster _is_ on his list, which Dean reminds him, but these look... questionable.

“Come on, Cas!” Dean pleads. “Ride that one with me, it'll be fun!”

“It looks structurally unsound.” Castiel sniffs.

Dean grins. “That's the fun part.”

Castiel squints at him. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I have a _fun_ wish, and you are not being very helpful. C'mon, you could do two things on your list, right now.”

“I don't know.” Castiel sighs. “It really doesn't look safe.”

Dean leans close to him and cups his elbow, suddenly serious. “Hey, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, man.”

His tone, and his eyes, they do something to Castiel's insides, makes them all wiggly and mushy. “Okay.” He says after a moment.

And so he gets into the rickety metal death trap with Dean. It's as soon as the metal bar descends over their laps that Castiel realizes that this was a mistake, but he's not fast enough to get out before the ride starts moving.

“I can't do this.” Castiel gasps, heart-rate picking up speed. “I-I can't!” He scrambles at the bar over his lap, but it doesn't budge.

Dean, realizing finally that Castiel is genuinely panicking, turns to shout to the ride operator, but it's too late, the train turns a corner and the operator is out of sight.

Castiel's breath is coming is short, shallow bursts. It's too much, he can't handle this. It's too much.

“Cas, hey. Cas.” Dean's voice cuts through the fog of fear that shrouds Castiel's mind. His hands come up, heavy on Castiel's arms as he leans over the younger man.

“It's okay, man. It's just a ride, we're gonna be fine.”

They start to ascend the first slope, and Castiel shakes his head violently. “We're gonna die!” He gasps. He's gripping the bar so tightly that his knuckles are going white, but his hands still manage to tremble.

“No, hey. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I promised, remember?” He shifts, sliding one arm around Castiel's back and pulling him close. “You're going to be okay.”

Castiel is not even a little convinced, but he burrows in close to Dean, because it's the only comfort he has right now, and he needs it. He shuts his eyes tight and tries not to throw up as they plummet down the first hill.

By the end of the ride, Castiel is a bigger mess than he has been in a long time. He can't, for the life of him, understand why anyone would find that experience enjoyable.

He's shaking and fighting the urge to vomit, and he has the horrible feeling that his eyes might be wet.

Dean helps him out of the cart and down the platform, muscling people gently out of the way.

“Move, please.” Dean says, moving through the crowd. “”scuse me. Yeah, can you move out of the way? Thanks.”

When they reach the ground, Castiel lurches away from him, making for the nearest trashcan, where he vomits up the contents of his stomach. He stays there, humiliated and heaving, for several minutes. Eventually, Sam finds them.

“Oh my god! What happened?”

“Once the ride started, Cas had a panic attack.” Dean tells him, before turning back to Castiel, placing a hand on his back.

Castiel stays where he is for a few more moments, then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up.

“Sorry, guys.” He says weakly, voice hoarse.

“You don't have anything to apologize for.” Sam assures him.

Dean nods. “It's my fault, man. You didn’t want to ride it and I pushed, I shouldn’t have pushed. I'm sorry, dude.”

“It's okay.” Castiel tells him. “Um, can I get some water?”

“I'll get you some!” Sam volunteers eagerly, and darts off to find some.

When Sam is gone, Dean moves closer to Castiel. His presence is soothing, shielding Castiel from the nearby crowds.

“I really am sorry.” Dean says earnestly. “You said no and I shouldn't have-”

“You were trying to help.” Castiel reminds him.

“Still though.”

Castiel sighs. “I should be able to handle a roller-coaster. One thing. I can't even handle that one thing.” He looks away from Dean, unable to meet his eye. He feels sick again, and he turns back to the trash can.

“You're doing fine.” Dean says.

“I'm not doing fine.” Castiel whispers, fingers curling at the edge of the bin. “I just want to go home.”

Dean is silent for a few moments. “You're doing okay though.” He offers. “And I can take you home.”

“Okay.” Says Castiel.

They wait until Sam gets back with a bottle of water, and then they leave the fair, all feeling much more somber than when they arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap8)


	9. Going Somewhere With All That Baggage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas, Dash and [toriftw](http://toriftw.tumblr.com)!

“So,” Says Meg, next time Castiel sees her in the shop. “I know I joke a lot about you being gay, but I didn't know you were _actually_ gay.”

“Hmm,” Castiel hums, leafing through a sheave of receipts. “I'm not gay. I've told you that.”

“ _Right_.” Meg rolls her eyes. “But you like that guy. Dean.”

“He's my friend.”

“Uhuh.”

“Of course I like him."

  
“You _like_ him.”

“As a friend.”

Meg gives him a disbelieving look. “So the, uh, the mad gay heart-eyes were totally platonic then?”

Castiel fixes her with a glare. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

She scoffs. “Come _on_! The gazing? And the smiling? God, I only witnessed it for like a second and it made me want to vomit, it was so sugar-filled. And, okay, I only got a glance at his ass, but _damn son_ , that's some Grade A shit.”

“Meg!” Castiel snaps.

“What?” She asks, grinning. “Don't like me looking at his ass?”

“No, I don't! Dean is not a- a piece of meat!”

“Sure.”

“You shouldn't _ogle_ him.”

“Of course not.”

“I just don't think he'd be comfortable with you objectifying him like that.”

“And this isn't jealousy at _all_ , I'm sure.” She says, overly innocent look on her face.

“This is me looking out for a friend.”

“A _hot_ friend.”

“His looks have nothing to do with it.”

“So you agree that he's hot?”

“I agree with nothing.”

Meg raises an eyebrow. “So, what, you think he's ugly?”

“No, of course not!” Castiel disagrees. “I just mean he's, well, I mean- I.” He trails off, unsure how to continue. “That is... I don't...” He sighs.

“Hey,” Meg says, face softening into a look that could almost be called kind, if one didn't know her. “It's okay, dude. He's a hot piece of ass, you're allowed to think so.”

Castiel swallows, looking down at the receipts in his hands. “Well, I'm not attracted to men, so I don't know.”

Meg throws up her hands. “Fine.” She says. “Whatever. There's obviously a mountain of baggage in the back of that closet you're trapped it. Not my problem.”

Castiel takes the time to level her with another long glare before he leaves, but when he gets back up to the apartment, he feels bad. He feels... guilty, and kind of sick to his stomach. He knows he's not being entirely truthful with anyone, even himself, but... there's nothing to be done about it. He forces it from his mind, devoting his focus entirely to his paperwork.

 

-o-

 

Castiel is leaned over, rifling through the bottom drawer of his dresser looking for a matching pair of socks, when a voice whispers in his ear, “Hey.”

Castiel bolts upright, terrified, ghost of a breath on his neck. The back of his head connects with something solid, and he hears a nasty sounding crunch and an, “Oh, fuck!”

He whirls around, and finds Dean standing behind him, hands over his nose, eyes watering profusely. “Fuckin' christ.” The man says.

“Oh my god!” Castiel moans, mortified at having accidentally injured Dean yet again. “Dean! I didn't- you scared me! I'm so sorry!”

He reaches out to Dean, who's still cursing and groaning in pain. “Shoulda learned my lesson last time.” Dean says, shaking his head. “Note to self: never sneak up on Cas.”

Castiel lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me see.” He orders, pulling Dean's hands away from his nose. No sooner has he done so, than he realizes that Dean's nose is bleeding copious amounts of blood.

“Oh my god!” He exclaims, scrambling around for something to staunch the flow. He picks up and discards a sock, a pair of underwear, and a pillow, until he finally grabs a shirt that's laying on the floor. It's dirty, but not too bad, and it'll do the trick. He holds the fabric to Dean's nose, which is starting to purple, and pulls the man over to sit on his bed.

“Lean your head forward.”

Dean does as he's told, sitting down on the side of Castiel's bed and tilting his head. He raises his eyes to Castiel's and smiles sheepishly.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel purses his lips and scowls. “Hi Dean.”

“I, um, I was gonna scare you.”

“Yes, well, mission accomplished.” He sighs. “How did you even get in here, did you just walk into my house?”

“Gabe let me in!” Dean defends himself. “I thought it'd be funny.”

“And was it?”

Dean's smile widens. “It was kinda funny.”

“Your sense of humor worries me.”

Dean pulls the shirt away from his nose, inspecting the large spot of blood marring the blue fabric. “I think it stopped bleeding.”

“Hmm.” Castiel hums, leaning forward to get a better looks. He reaches out toward the purpling skin around Dean's nose, touching in gingerly, with just the tip of his finger. “How's that feel?”

“Sore.” The man admits with a grimace.

“You'll have that.” Says Castiel, brushing drying rivulets of blood from Dean's upper lip with his thumb.

“You know, actually,” Dean muses, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth. “I think I may be seriously injured. You may have to nurse me back to health.”

“Of course.” Castiel nods seriously. “You want some tea? Or I could get you some ice.”

“Ah, no, i'm fine, thanks.” Dean laughs. “I was just teasin'.” He looks around himself then, having been distracted by pain previously, and Castiel feels suddenly very vulnerable. Dean is seeing his room for the first time. All his posters and books, his clothes, his mess, all out there for Dean to see... and judge.

“I... didn't know you were coming over or I would have picked up.” He tells the other man.

“Well that wouldn't be any fun, would it?” Dean says, standing up and walking around the room. “I like it. It's very _you_.”

“Is it?” Castiel asks, curiously.

“It is.” Dean answers, but he doesn't elaborate.

Castiel just watches as the man walks slowly around the room, and neither of them say anything at all for a while. There's something sort of heavy in the air, not necessarily bad. It's a little exciting, actually. There's no reason why Dean shouldn't be in his room, but he feels like he's breaking a rule anyway. No matter that he's been in Dean's room many times, and even slept in his bed once, this is different. This is Castiel's personal space. This is Dean looking a bit more into Castiel, a little bit into his soul, and he likes it.

“I... may have gone a bit overboard with the posters.” Castiel admits. “I was never allowed to have any at my parents'.”

Dean laughs. “You can never have too many posters.” He assures Castiel. “But I think you're going to run out of wall space soon.”

There are a lot of posters about and depicting space, taken from old National Geographic magazines. There are maps, some of them with little marks in black ink where Castiel might someday want to go, if he can. There are movie posters, some of them from movies Castiel hasn't even seen yet, but they look neat so he got them anyway.

“Maybe I'll start putting them on the ceiling soon.” He says.

“You should put a poster of somebody above your bed.”

“Who?”

Dean shrugs. “Whoever gets you goin'. You like,” He thinks for a moment. “Scarlett Johansson?”

Castiel shrugs, noncommittally.

Dean looks at him for several long seconds, his gaze scrutinizing. “Chris Evans?”

Castiel shrugs again.

“Viggo Mortensen?” Dean tries.

Once again, Castiel just shrugs.

“Do you...” Dean stops, scratching a spot on his cheek thoughtfully. “I mean, do you _get_ going?”

“I don't understand.” Castiel admits.

“Well. Okay. I know there's a lot of, you know, different sexualities and stuff. And it's cool if you don't get revved up by anything. That's called something. A-asexual? I think? Something like that. Anyway, I mean, whatever you like is cool, you know? I just-”

“Dean.” Castiel interrupts him. His voice is tight, and his stomach is in knots. “I don't want to talk about this.”

Dean's eyes widen, his lips part. Castiel reads hurt in his face for a moment. “Oh.” He breathes. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry. I didn't um, I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay.” Castiel assures him. He doesn't want Dean to have his feelings hurt. It's not Dean's fault that Castiel can't figure things out. “It's not a big deal, I just don't want to talk about it.”

Dean looks down at his hands and nods. “Cool. Cool.” He mutters quietly.

And then there's the awkward silence, stretching out between them like an uncrossable desert. Surprisingly, Castiel hasn't had very many awkward silences with Dean. They talk easily, usually. Things are easy. Now, suddenly, they're not.

“So, did you come over just to scare me, or did you have another reason?” Castiel means to sound lighthearted, joking, but his voice comes out strained instead.

Dean, thankfully, is willing to pretend that everything is fine. “Oh, um, I came over to see if you wanted to learn how to change the oil in a car, or change a tire.”

“Okay.” Castiel says, eager to get out of this room and the suddenly suffocating energy that fills it. “Lets go.”

They stand to leave, and Castiel doesn't say anything about the fact that Dean still has his shirt balled up in his hand.

 

Learning about car maintenance is messy and exhausting. By the end of it, the both of them are covering in dirt and engine oil. But now Castiel knows how to do more things on his own, and he and Dean seem to be okay again.

And, alright, maybe the feeling of Dean's arm pressed against his own as he pointed out engine parts made Castiel's heart feel like it was growing. And maybe the feeling of Dean's breath against his ear when the man leaned just a little too close to tell him something set sparks ablaze in his stomach, but he's not ready to analyze those feelings yet. He's come a long way since moving out of his parents' house, but there are some things that still feel wrong even though he knows that, really, they aren’t. He just keeps picturing his parents' faces, hearing their voices heavy with disapproval and anger.

Castiel's family is staunchly against, well, most things. But homosexuals are pretty close to the top of the list of things they hate. He's working on it, he really is. He's trying to untangle his parents' approval and disapproval with his own feelings, but it's no easy feat.

At the end of the day, leaning against Gabriel's car, Castiel knows he's going to have to sort himself out. Because Dean is standing there next him. His arms and his lips and his chest make Castiel's skin buzz in a way that makes him want to take up something dangerous, like bungee jumping or skydiving, just to _do_ something. And Castiel has never been in love, but Dean's eyes and his smile hold so many promises that Castiel sort of wants to throw up most of the time, he's so scared, but also he feels hope for the future again.

 

-o-

 

Gabriel, for all his mischievousness and immaturity, can be surprisingly thoughtful. His thoughtfulness, however, is not always brought out in ways that are incredibly helpful.

Castiel cannot, for the life of him, decide if this time is actually helpful or not.

“Okay,” Gabriel says, setting a cardboard box on the end of Castiel's bed. “We've got magazines, if you want to go old school.” He takes a stack of magazines out of the box and sets them on the bedspread. The one on top boasts a picture of a woman with abnormally large breasts, but as the magazines spread out he sees at least one with a picture of a man posed on the front. “Or we've got dvds.” He upends the box, sending dvd cases scattering across the bed. “I don't know what you like, so I tried to get you a little of everything.”

Gabriel nods, satisfied. “And you have my old laptop and headphones, so you can watch them on there. Um, you got Kleenex, you got lube. I think you're good.”

Castiel has been blushing bright red ever since his cousin _finally_ noticed one of the very last things on his list, which is: “Never watched porn.”

In Castiel's old house, watching or looking at pornography was met with the same disapproval and horror as, say, murder. Castiel has never been much into masturbation anyway, afforded little to no privacy by his parents, mading the act a lot less fun. But now Gabriel is determined to introduce him to the magical world of pornography.

“You can look online if you want, but it can be a little overwhelming the first time.” Gabriel advises. He takes a deep breath. “I'll lock the door behind me, but feel free to turn on some music or something.” He claps his hands together. “Okay, have fun.”

“Uh, thank you, Gabriel.” Castiel says, avoiding his cousin's gaze.

“No problem.” Gabriel gives him two thumbs up and backs out the door, locking and closing it behind him.

Once he leaves, Castiel sits back against his headboard and surveys the pile of pornographic materials in front of him. It's overwhelming, to say the least. He flips through the magazines first, but can't seem to find anything that piques his interest. The one with just men in it does make certain parts of him tingle a little, but it's not really enough to get him going. He rifles through the dvds next, picking one at random and popping it into the laptop. He plugs in the headphones and adjusts them over his ears, making himself comfortable before pushing play.

The plot is asinine at best, the acting dry and wooden, and Castiel doesn't enjoy the action at all. The kissing between the man and woman is interesting, and he likes watching that, but they don't do it for long, skipping quickly to more unsavory acts. And yes, seeing another man's body is nice, and it makes his dick start to thicken, but the focus of the camera quickly switches to the woman and her... squishy looking vagina. Boobs aren't too bad, he supposes, but the penetration just makes him queasy. He turns it off and takes it out, choosing another, but it's just more of the same. He continues on in this vein until he's watched all of the heterosexual movies. He doesn't even bother with the lesbian pornography.

Finally, all that's left are the gay movies, which Castiel has been avoiding.

He knows what'll happen when he watches the ones with just men, what reaction it'll provoke in him. It makes him nervous, but now that he knows he can't get off watching women, it's all he's got left.

He runs a hand through his hair and picks up the first one, which has two men dressed in military uniform staring longingly at each other on the cover.

The plot in this one is just as bad as the others, and the acting of about the same caliber, but at least when the clothes start coming off he's interested.

Things start to progress with the plot, and soon the two men seem to be trying to eat each other's faces. As base as it is, it makes arousal curl in Castiel's stomach. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, reminding himself that this is okay here. Here, he's allowed to let himself feel what he wants.

He shifts, pushing his pajama pants and boxers down his thighs, letting his growing erection out into the light of day. As the men on screen move on to oral sex, Castiel reaches over to his bedside table, where the pump-style bottle of lube Gabriel got him sits. He gets some in his palm, and takes a moment to try and warm it before wrapping it around his length.

It feels good. It's been a long time since he's masturbated, and he's never done it feeling so safe. He lets himself be swept away by the movie, twisting his fingers around his shaft as one actor moans around the other's cock.

Unfortunately, there's something about the man on his knees that reminds Castiel of Dean. Maybe it's the hair, or the freckles, but he thinks mostly it's the lips. They're full and soft, the way Dean's are, and, watching them stretched tight around a thick cock, Castiel can't help but imagine that it's Dean.

He comes all over his hand and stomach before the actors even get to penetration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap9)


	10. Out of the Closet

Coming to terms with things is not easy, but after the pornography situation, any hope Castiel has of clinging to the last threads of heterosexuality is pretty much gone. He's not straight. He likes men.

Maybe he's known for a long time, but it had been pretty easy not to think about it when he wasn't allowed access to any sort of pornography. His parents had taken his lack of interest in girls as a sign that he'd been more pure, but had always missed it when he'd glanced at boys.

It's pretty clear now, though. There's no denying it anymore. It's scary, really scary, but with this realization comes a sort of peace. Castiel doesn't _have_ to lie anymore, not to himself, and not to others. He's pretty sure Gabriel won't think any different of him, not the way his parents would. And his friends, well, he's not sure, but he thinks they'll be okay with it.

 

This is how, one day before Gabriel goes to open up the shop, Castiel finds the courage to talk to him. He catches his cousin in the kitchen, halfway through a bowl of frosted flakes.

“Hey, Gabriel?” Castiel begins, hovering in the doorway.

“Huh?” Gabriel mumbles into his breakfast.

“Can I, um, can I talk to you?”

Gabriel nods and motions for Castiel to sit in the chair across from him.

Castiel moves slowly, nerves swirling in his stomach. The chair creaks loudly when he sits.

“Okay,” He starts again. “So. Um. I have something that I want to tell you.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows curiously and takes another bite.

Castiel lets out a breath slowly, willing himself to calm down. It doesn't work.

“I- I realized something. Recently. You, um, you sort of helped with it actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Castiel breathes, keeping his eyes on the ancient plastic in front of him. He swallows. “So. I...” He trails off. He has to take another deep breath before trying again. “I realized...”

But he can't get it out. He can't force the words past his lips. He closes his eyes and rubs his palms over the worn denim that covers his thighs. His heart is going a million miles a minute and he's starting to get lightheaded.

“Cassie,” Gabriel says, reaches out a hand to set on Castiel's arm. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, dude.”

“No,” Castiel says after a moment, eyes still shut tight. “I want to. It's just... harder than I thought it would be.”

“Take your time.” Gabriel puts down his spoon, eyes alight with curiosity now.

“I um, I may be...” Castiel finally looks up at Gabriel. “I think I like men.” He whispers.

Gabriel blinks, then nods. “You okay with that?”

“I- I think so.” Castiel admits.

“Alright, then.” Gabriel replies. He appears to think for a moment, then asks, “I'm not the first one you told, am I?”

Castiel nods.

Gabriel grins. “Thanks for tellin' me, man.” He says, “C'mere.” And he holds out his arms.

Castiel can't help the smile that grows on his face as he leans in to accept his cousin's hug. Now, he can't even remember why he was so worried. Of course Gabriel is okay with it, it's Gabriel. Surprisingly supportive and understanding, Gabriel.

“Thanks.” He mumbles into Gabriel's shoulder, and his cousin's arms tighten around him for a moment.

“Man, you know I love you.” He reminds Castiel. “You don't have to worry about this shit.”

“Maybe not with you,” Castiel affirms, “But everybody else-”

“If anybody else has a problem, they can eat my ass.”

Castiel appreciates the sentiment, but he grimaces anyway.

“Hey, you'd better get used to the idea.” Gabriel laughs.

“Of what?” Castiel wonders, frowning.

“Eating ass.”

“Gross, Gabriel!”

“You say that now.” Gabriel sings knowingly. “But you're gonna want to try it eventually.”

“How would you know anything about that?”

“I know a lot about a lot of things, Grasshopper.” Gabriel announces. “I am a firm believer in trying anything once.”

“I feel like I really didn't need to know that.” Castiel decides.

“Should'a thought about that before, huh?”

“Fuck you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiles at him, eyes going soft around the corners. “I'm proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks Gabriel.” Then, “But... do you think our friends will... still like me?”

Gabriel gives him a look that very clearly says, “don't be stupid”.

“I promise you they wont care.” He assures his cousin. “Pretty sure Dean isn't straight, anyway.”

Something in Castiel's stomach gives a lurch, but he keeps his face impassive. “Why do you say that?” He asks, nonchalantly.

“Just, you know, signs and shit.”

“Oh.”

“You gonna tell them?”

Castiel huffs. “I don't know. I- I _want_ to, but I guess there's not really a reason for me to, anyway.”

“If you want to tell 'em, then you should tell 'em. It's your thing, man.”

“I suppose.” Castiel muses. “I'll have to think about it more.”

“You do that. I gotta get dressed.” Gabriel stands and stretches his arms into the air, gets his now-empty bowl and lets it clatter into the sink.

Castiel sits at the table long after Gabriel is gone, thinking. He's conflicted. On one hand, he wants to keep this secret to himself, because he doesn't know how people will react. On the other hand, he has this urge to tell _everyone_. He wants people to know. He's discovered this new information about himself, and it feels like it needs to be shared.

He especially wants to tell Dean, for some reason, and at the same time he's absolutely terrified of Dean knowing. It makes him sick to his stomach with nerves, and he's not quite sure why.

 

-o-

 

Next movie night, Castiel almost falls over with shock when Dean's apartment door is opened not by Dean or Sam, but by a pretty, familiar red-head.

“Castiel! Hi!” She gushes, pulling him into hug as if they're long-lost friends.

“Hello, um... Charlie.” Castiel mutters, remembering her name at the last moment. He hasn't seen her since the last time he was at the library, and it's not as if they do more than make small-talk.

She pulls back, still looking thrilled. “Hi!” She says to Gabriel. “I'm Charlie.”

“Gabriel.” The man says, giving a wave. “Cassie's cousin.”

“Aww, “Cassie”?” Charlie squeals. “Can I call you that too?”

“Please don't.” Castiel says, still feeling incredibly shell-shocked.

Charlie pouts, but doesn't push further. She finally steps back from the door and ushers them in with a flourish of her arm. Inside, Dean and Sam are already lounging on the couch.

“'Ey, Cas!” Dean yells from the couch, waving his arm in a wide circle in greeting.

“Hi, Dean.” Castiel answers, unable to help the smile that grows on his lips.

“What about me?” Gabriel grumps.

“Hey, Dickhead.” Dean greets him as well.

Against all odds, Gabriel is mollified. “Thank you.” He says.

The three of them head into the living room and spread out on the available seating. Charlie has apparently brought her own bean-bag chair from home, and Dean gives up his seat on the couch to Gabriel, so he and Castiel end up next to each other on the floor.

Castiel likes Charlie, he does. She's nice, she jokes but she doesn't tease, she takes things in stride. But there's something that bothers him. As ashamed as he is to admit it, her closeness to Dean makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. It's not their proximity, but their camaraderie. They way they talk to each other and joke with each other, the way she nudges Dean in the shoulder with her foot when there's a particularly good scene in the movie. They're friends, they're close.

Of course, Dean can have more than one friend, Castiel reminds himself. It's not as if he thought he was the only one. Dean is young and handsome and funny and- well, the point is that obviously he's going to have more friends. Friends that are... pretty, and like the same shows as Dean.

Castiel wraps his arms around himself and tries to concentrate on the movie, with no success. Maybe it's because he's never had a friend this good before, never had someone he felt so easy with, but of course Dean has lots of friends. Castiel isn't special, and maybe he's upset because he thought he was.

Feeling extremely frustrated with himself and a bit sick to his stomach, Castiel excuses himself to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He doesn't even care if he misses bit of the movie, he hasn't been paying attention to it anyway.

He stands there by the sink sipping tepid tap water from a cup and trying to calm down until he feels a hesitant touch at his elbow. He turns quickly, and finds himself face to face with the cause of his anxiety.  
“Hey,” Dean says, forehead scrunched with concern. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel answers, too quickly.

“Really? You seem like something's wrong.”

Castiel shrugs. “I don't know what you mean.” He lies.

“You just,” Dean scratches at his jaw, thinking for a moment. “You seem tense. And kinda fidgety, too. Are you bored? I know you don't really like westerns but True Grit is a classic-”

“The movie is fine.” Castiel interrupts. “I just, um, my stomach is just a little upset.” It's not a complete lie anyway.

“You need some air?” Dean suggests. “Lets go outside.”

“Okay.” Castiel complies, letting himself be led along through the living room.

“We'll be right back.” Dean tells the room, and Castiel feels a dreadful spike of joy that he doesn't invite anyone else along.

They walk downstairs, and Castiel tries to ignore the smells of mildew and pee. Once they push open the front door, though, the fresh night air closes around them in a rush, and Castiel instantly feels lighter. They sit down side-by-side on the cracking concrete steps that lead down to the sidewalk, and things are very quiet.

In the distance, the sounds of sirens can be heard rushing down the streets. Laughter too, filters out of the windows of the apartments that rise high above them. The night is alive with noise, and it's something that Castiel never thought he'd like when he lived in the quiet, picket-fence part of town, but nowadays he doesn't know what he'd do without it. Still thought, it's quiet. It _feels_ quiet. Sitting here next to Dean, Castiel's mind grows calm.

He closes his eyes, and breathes in. He smells cigarette smoke, exhaust fumes, engine oil, and Dean. Dean smells like Old Spice. The long, soft sleeve of Dean's plaid overshirt is brushing Castiel's arm, and their knees are almost touching.

“Feel any better?” Dean asks.

“Much.” Castiel breathes. “I'm sorry. I just- I get a little... claustrophobic sometimes.”

“'s okay.” Dean assures him, leaning over to bump their shoulders together gently.

“You didn't have to come with me. You're missing the movie.”

“I've seen it.” Dean tells him. “It's nice out here, anyway.”  
“Can't see the stars tonight though.” Castiel laments.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, it's too bright. You can see right into Mrs. Dillon's window, though.” Dean points at the apartment building across the street where, sure enough, Castiel can very clearly see an elderly woman on the second floor practicing what he hopes is yoga.

“True. Spying on neighbors is just as good.”

“Spry old bird, isn't she?”

“It's amazing. I don't know how she's getting her leg up there. I can't do that.”

“Well she's got to stay limber for her gentlemen callers.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“No!” Castiel cries. “She _doesnt_! You're joking.”

Dean shakes his head and leans over to wrap an arm around Castiel's shoulders. “Elderly people don't stop fuckin', my friend, they just stop worrying about getting pregnant.”

“Ew.”

“I think it's beautiful.” Dean sniffs. “I mean, they're old, they're wrinkly, their skin is all... thin. And yet, they still find each other attractive, apparently. Isn't that something?”

“It's... something, I guess.” Castiel concedes. “But can we talk about something else? This is kind of creeping me out.”

Dean laughs, and pulls his arm back. “Yeah. Sure. Actually there was, uh, something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Castiel tries not to shiver at the loss of Dean's arm around him. “What is it?”

“Okay. So, I have this idea.”

“Yes?”

“Alright, well.” Dean huffs. “Promise you won't laugh.”

“I promise no such thing.”

Dean smiles at him. “I think we should take a road-trip.”

“A- what?”

“A road-trip. I think the four of us should go. I don't know where yet, but we could do a bunch of stuff on your list on the way, and a road-trip is _on_ your list anyway. And I, uh, I think it would be fun.”

“But don't you have to work?” Castiel wonders.

“I have some vacation days I have to use, actually. And look, it's almost fall. After that it'll be too cold. We could see the sights, visit tourist attractions and shit.” Dean is grinning so big, so excited with his plan, that it almost physically pains Castiel to bring up his next question.

“Won't this cost... money? For gas and food and hotels and stuff?”

“Oh ye of little faith!” Dean says, wagging a finger. “Yeah, okay, gas is gonna cost money. But if we all chip in I think it'll be okay. And half the fun of a road-trip is roughin' it. We can camp out some of the time, get drunk in the cheapest motels possible the rest of the time. We can bring our own food. It'll be _fun_!” And, despite all of the things Dean has said, it does actually sound kind of fun. It sounds like an adventure.

“I like it.” He says finally.

“Yeah?” Dean seems surprised.

“Yeah.” Castiel affirms. “I want to do it.”

Dean grins and gives him an appraising look. “We'll have to convince the others.”

“Gabriel is generally on board for just about anything.”

“I bet Sam'll be cool with it.” Dean says, nodding thoughtfully. “One last big thing before he goes off to college, you know?” Dean trails off at the end, and gets very quiet. He's got a pensive look on his face, bordering on glum.

Castiel doesn't like it when Dean is sad, and so he says something he knows will cheer his friend up.

“I, um, I put a poster of someone up over my bed.” He blurts.

Dean looks at him, and it takes him a moment to catch up with the conversation, but once he does his gaze becomes curious. “Oh yeah? Who is it?” He asks.

Castiel looks down at his feet, at the tufts of grass poking their way determinedly out of cracks in the concrete. He takes a deep breath.

“David Bowie.” He says in a small voice, eyes trained on that small tuft of grass.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean freeze, and then turn to look at him.

“Bowie?”

Castiel nods slowly. “You, um, you were right about his pants.”

Dean, to his great surprise, bursts out laughing. This was in no way the response Castiel was expecting, and he finds himself turning to gape at Dean, wide eyed and confused.

“You always surprise me, you know that?” Dean says, after he's caught his breath.

“What?”

Dean shakes his head. “I just- I think i've got you figured out and then you throw me for a loop. Every time.”

“Sorry.” Says Castiel, feeling a little bashful.

“I like it. You keep me on my toes.”

Castiel finds himself smiling at his friend. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean looks at him, and keeps looking. “I'm glad I met you.”

A heat starts to rise in Castiel's cheeks, and he looks away. “I'm, uh, glad I met you too.” He mumbles.

Dean leans into him a little, pressing his shoulder against Castiel's for a moment, then moving away. It's an odd gesture, but it makes Castiel feel very secure.

They sit outside for a while longer, and when they finally go back into the building, Castiel can't find it in himself to be jealous of Charlie anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ The List So Far ](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap10)


	11. Massages Are A Gateway Drug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> \- massages  
> \- inopportune boners  
> \- a very small amount of underage drinking  
> \- gabriel is an unknowing cockblock

Gabriel is, predictably, very easy to convince that a road-trip is a great idea. He's all for adventure, all for the unknown, all for tossing his responsibilities to the wind and absconding into the horizon. He gets so excited, in fact, that Castiel has to take some time to calm him down and remind him that a road-trip is _temporary_.

Sam too is very eager, although Castiel wonders if it doesn't have something to do with the fact that this trip is Dean's idea, and that this is the last big thing he'll probably get to do with his brother. He wants to make Dean happy, before he leaves him. The worst thing is, Castiel knows that the thought has occurred to Dean. He's a smart man, he can see what's in front of him. And it's right there, glaring him in the face.

But Dean seems content to ignore it, focusing on the outcome instead of the reason, and that's just fine with Castiel. As long as everybody's happy.

 

They set a date, give themselves about a month to get everything ready. They get maps and plan routes , they budget and save and gather supplies. Dean has one very special responsibility: getting Castiel ready to drive cross-country.

No one has forgotten Castiel's fear. Although it's gotten less and less over the past months, it's still there and it presents a very real problem.

And so, Dean takes it on himself to help Castiel get over his fear, or at least be able to tolerate it. Every couple days, after he gets off work, Dean comes over and takes Castiel on a drive. Not a long one, ten to twenty minutes is all at first.

Castiel sits in the front seat of Dean's big black car, hands curled into tight fists by his sides. He tries to keep calm, but he can never quite manage it. Dean always starts slow, easing the car down back streets and disused byways. He tells Castiel that he's a great driver, and that he has nothing to worry about. Sometimes he reaches over and puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder, kneading the tenseness gently out of his friend's muscles. This helps a lot, actually, Castiel finds himself calming alarmingly quickly at Dean's touch.

“Cas,” Dean says, one day when they're out driving. Castiel is having an especially hard time today, and is currently in the midst of a panic attack. Dean has pulled over onto the side of the road, and he's leaning over Castiel, one hand on his shoulder.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”

Castiel shakes his head. His hands are curled into painfully tight fists on his thighs and he can't seem to get enough air. He's feeling trapped, caged in, and all he can think is that he _needs to get out_.

He scrambles at the door handle and lurches out onto the side of the road. They're out of town, a little ways into the country, with wide fields and grass and wildflowers everywhere. Castiel feels like if he can just sit down in the grass, just for a minute, maybe everything will be okay.

So he stumbles off, down a bone-dry ditch by the side of the road, up the other side, and into the endless expanse of emerald green grass that awaits. He can hear Dean calling after him, but his voice sounds so far away. It's like he's listening to him through a phone with very bad reception. So he keeps walking, until he can finally catch his breath, and then he falls to the ground, flopping over onto his back and spreading his arms out as wide as they can go. He leans his head back and closes his eyes and lets the sun bake down on him. He can feel his t-shirt riding up around his middle, leaving a strip of skin for the sun to warm, and he doesn't try to fix it. Everything is quiet for a few long heartbeats, before someone trips over him.

“Fuck.” Says Dean, laying face-down on the ground parallel, and also partially over, Castiel. He turns his head so that he's not eating dirt. “Fuck.” He says again.

“Sorry.” Castiel breathes, looking forlornly at his friend.

Dean stares thoughtfully back at him, rubbing the dirt from his face with his arm.

“You were freaking out.” He says.

“Still am.” Castiel tells him.

“You are?”

Castiel nods.

“You look calmer.” Dean says.

“I just need a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” Dean turns over slowly, and sits up. He shuffles over until he's sitting next to Castiel's head. Castiel watches the uncertainty play across his features, just before he reaches out, hesitantly, and brushes hair back from Castiel's face. Then, his fingers keep going, and he's gently running his digits through Castiel's locks, rubbing soothingly at his scalp.

Castiel does not like to be touched overly much. There are only certain people he lets touch him at _all_ , and even fewer whose touch he _enjoys_. But this has him melting, purring like a cat and pressing into the feeling. At the soft scratch of fingernails on his skin, Castiel lets himself relax completely and he groans, loudly and happily.

“Good?” Dean asks, sounding amused.

“Mmhmm.” Castiel mumbles. “You're- it's good. Very, very good.”

Dean keeps on, and then after a while he asks, “You feeling better?”

Castiel sighs, and nods. “Yes.” He admits.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you.” Dean says again. “I've been driving since I was fourteen. I've never been in a wreck. Never even got a ticket. You're with me, you're safe.”

And for some reason, this really does make Castiel feel better. Castiel blinks up at Dean, watches as a bead of sweat runs down the man's forehead and drips off of his nose.

“Promise.” He whispers.

Dean frowns down at Castiel, but he wets his lips and then he nods. “I promise.”

“Okay.”

“You ready to go back?” Dean asks.

Castiel frowns. He doesn't really want to go back. This is nice, open air and warm sun, grass beneath him, Dean above him. “I guess.” He says.

Dean reads the hesitation clearly. “Tell you what,” He offers. “We make it home without major incident and I will give you a _really_ good back massage.”

“A back massage?” Castiel asks, curious. If anyone else offered he'd reject the idea outright, but if Dean did it... it might be kind of nice. “I've never had a back massage.”

“Well I give _awesome_ massages.” Dean says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “And i'll give you one when we get back. What do you say?”

Slowly, Castiel sits up. He sighs, willing himself to stay calm. “Alright.” He agrees.

Dean helps him up and they pick their way back to the car, still sitting on the side of the road looking lonesome.

The car ride back is mostly uneventful. Castiel rolls the window down and manages to keep his anxiety under wraps until they pull up outside Cuffs. He gets out quickly and takes a deep breath, but at least he's not having a panic attack, so at least that's something.

Castiel waves at Gabriel, who sits at the front desk, and the two of them ascend the stairs to the apartment.

Castiel almost expects Dean to forget about his offer, it's not as if he _really_ needs to do something like that for a friend. Castiel would definitely forgive him if he thought it was too much trouble and walked away. But, secretly, he's very happy when Dean says,

“You wanna do it in your room?”

And, alright, maybe he's been watching too much pornography lately, because his mind jumps immediately to some not-so-friendly places. But he reigns his imagination in and hopes that he isn't blushing too magnificently when he answers.

“Oh, um, yes.”

He walks to his room, acutely aware of Dean's tread behind him. Inside feels stifling, his heart is going fast, his pulse is racing. At first, he thinks he's having another panic attack, but that's not quite it. He's not scared. Well, he's a little scared, but it's not the same at all. It's a little more like excitement than anything else, like he thinks something good might happen, but he's not quite sure what. And he sort of doesn't want whatever it is to happen, but at the same time he really hopes it does.

He stands awkwardly in the middle of his room, hands stiff at his sides, absolutely unsure about what to do next. Then Dean sidles up next to him and says,

“Take off your shirt, dude.” Easy as anything.

“My shirt?” Castiel squeaks.

“Yeah, man. Can't give a proper back-rub with your shirt on.”

“Oh.” Castiel swallows. He looks down at his front, at his worn t-shirt. He rubs his thumbs along the edge.

“Are you... uncomfortable?” Dean asks.

“No!” Castiel says quickly. “Well... maybe. A little. I'm just very... pale. And I don't look-” He gestures, positive that he's not conveying the message he wants, but desperate to try anyway.

To his surprise, Dean smiles at him. “Hey, it's just me, remember? You don't have to worry about it.”

Strangely, this calms the roiling sea of emotion in Castiel's stomach, and he nods. Then he hooks his fingers under the bottom of his shirt and he lifts it over his head. He tosses it to the floor, and then somehow finds it in himself to smile back at Dean.

“Okay!” Dean says, clapping his hands together. “Lay down on your stomach.” He points to the bed. “You got lotion anywhere?”

Castiel goes to his bed, crawls to the middle, and lays down with his arms under his head before pointing to a bottle of unscented lotion on his bedside table.

“I use it for my feet.” He explains.

“Perfect!” Dean exclaims. He grabs the bottle, climbs up onto the bed behind Castiel, and then proceeds to kneel _over_ him. He has one knee on either side of Castiel's butt, and when the younger man asks about he says, “You get the best leverage this way!” Then he squirts some lotion into his palm and rubs his hands together. “Ready?”

Castiel says, “Yes.” but he is not.

He is not, in fact, ready for the heat of Dean's hands on his bare torso, for the slip of lotion aided fingers pressed into the muscles of his back. Dean's hands are so big, and he can't believe he's never noticed before. They're warm, and they're firm, and they feel so, so good on his waist. Dean rubs the tension slowly out of Castiel's shoulders, then moves methodically downward. Sometimes he stops to apply more lotion, sometimes he just takes a moment to run his hands over the exposed skin. There doesn't seem to be any reason for this motion, but Castiel loves it.

Dean's hands are a little rough, they have callouses, and sometimes they scratch at Castiel's skin in the best way possible.

When Dean's thumbs press into the muscle at the bottom of his back, at the top of his low-riding jeans, he thinks he's died. It feels amazing. It hurts a little, but in a way that makes him feel loose and good. He can't help it.

“Oh, _fuck_.” He gasps.

Dean stills. He takes pressure off of the muscles, and Castiel just stops himself from whining at the loss. Dean clears his throat. “Did I... hurt you?”

“No!” Castiel breathes. “No.”

Dean's hands are hesitant, fingers hovering, only barely touching Castiel's skin now. “You want me to, um-”

“Keep going! I mean- please. If you don't, um, mind. It feels- it feels... good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, yeah. I can- I can do that.” Dean says, sounding a little breathless. He presses his thumbs back into the muscle, rubbing in small, firm circles that have Castiel's toes curling.

“That feels good?” Dean asks him.

“Oh, yes.” Castiel hums. His whole body is buzzing in a very pleasant way, from his nose to his toes, and he has a very prevalent erection at this point, brought on by perhaps by the skin-to-skin contact, or maybe it has something to do with all of this nice pressure in all of these nice places. In any case, he's not quite sure how he's going to extricate himself from this situation when he needs to, but at this point he doesn't really care at all.

And then, wonder of wonders, Dean's thumbs slip further down. It's a deliberate move, Castiel can tell, firm and decisive. They slide down, beneath the band of Castiel's jeans, and they press at the swell of his ass. They rub the muscle there, once, twice, and Castiel groans into his arms because it feels marvelous. Then Dean's hands move down, and for a moment his palms are resting on Castiel's back pockets, on the real, unmistakable curve of his ass, and it's like- it's like-

They hear the front door open, and then shut, and Gabriel's voice is calling out, “I'm hooooooome!”

They're both very still for about half a second, and then they're scrambling to get up at once. Maybe they aren’t technically doing anything wrong, but there's something heavy in the air that Castiel isn't eager to share, and apparently neither is Dean.

But they're both rushing, breathless, and uncoordinated. They end up in a heap next to Castiel's bed, limbs flailing, pressed against each other in all the wrong ways. Somehow, Castiel has ended up on top of Dean, and when he tries to get up again, he accidentally presses his thigh into Dean's groin. Dean grabs Castiel's hips to hold him still, biting off the moan that tries to slip through his lips, because Castiel has pressed into what is very clearly a hard dick. He's not the only one who enjoyed the massage, apparently.

Castiel freezes, staring down into Dean's eyes as the man's face slowly turns a mortified shade of crimson. There's no concrete line between friends and whatever comes after, Castiel has no idea where such a thing would be drawn. It's never come up before, he's never gotten close. But right here, right now, it is very clear to him that they've both very definitely crossed that line.

“Fuck, Cas I- shit I-” Dean stutters, obviously beyond embarrassed. “I- I don't-”

“It's okay!” Castiel interrupts, trying to pick himself up again. He puts his weight on his other leg this time, and manages to get himself upright fairly quickly.

“No, I- this is so-”

“Dean,” Castiel reaches out to help him to his feet, and then they step quickly back from each other. “It's alright-”

But before they have the chance to work anything out, or make more of a mess, Gabriel is poking his head in.

“Hey guys!” He greets them. “You stayin' for supper, Dean?”

“Ah,” Dean says. He looks to Castiel for a moment, but then shakes his head. “I- I have to go. Sorry. I- uh, I’ll talk to you later, Cas.”

“Yep.” Castiel says tightly. He looks away as Dean walks quickly out of his room and then out of the apartment.

Gabriel, head still poked in the door, looks perplexed. “Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes.” Castiel tells him quickly.

Gabriel looks unconvinced, but after a moment he shrugs and leaves.

After Gabriel is gone, Castiel shuts the door behind him and locks it. He has no idea what to do or how to feel, he's afraid things between him and Dean will be strained now, at best, and he doesn't want that. Dean is his friend. Actually, if he thinks about it, Dean is probably his best friend. He hopes there's a way to fix this.

But, before he does anything else, he has to take care of the erection trapped painfully in the leg of his jeans, the arousal spinning hot and angry in his stomach. He sits back down on his bed and leans back against the headboard, opening his pants easily and pulling himself out. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, and then begins to stroke his length.

Squeezing the base of his cock, he remembers Dean's hands on him, the press of his fingers, his palms on Castiel's ass.

Thumbing over the head, he lets himself daydream, what might have happened had they not been interrupted? Maybe Dean would have been bold, would have squeezed the globes of Castiel's ass in his big hands, would have pulled his jeans down beneath the swell, would have palmed him open and looked at the center of him.

His hand drifts down to his balls, massaging them gently in between his fingers, and he thinks about what it might be like to have Dean suck him off. He thinks about Dean's lips, stretched tight. He thinks about Dean looking up at him with those vibrant eyes. He thinks about coming all over Dean's freckly skin.

Then, he does come, but it's on his own hand and he immediately feels guilty for involving his friend in his fantasy.

 

-o-

 

It's only a few days after The Back Massage Incident that Balthazar is deemed fit to roam the world again. He shows up at Gabriel and Castiel's apartment with a case full of Mike's Hard Lemonade and a smile. The smile, of course, quickly turns into a frown and a crinkled nose when shown around the apartment, but it wouldn't be Balthazar if he didn't have that look on his face.

“It's very, ah... quaint?” He tries and fails to sound pleasant.

“We know it's a hole.” Gabriel says from the kitchen. “But it's our hole, so you better watch your fuckin' tone, son.”

They all take a moment to snicker at Gabriel's wording, and then they're back to serious.

“Eh, sorry.” Balthazar shrugs. “Been stuck around the conservative types too long, I suppose.”

“Well sit down and shut up.” Gabriel comes from the kitchen. “We're gonna play video games and get trashed.”

Balthazar closes his eyes and sighs. “That sounds perfect. I haven’t been drunk in a while though, so I’m gonna try and go easy this time.”

“Suit yourself,” Gabriel tells him, flopping down on the couch with a fifth of whiskey in his grasp. “But I am getting _hammered_.”

Gabriel gets hammered. Well and truly. He's laying on the floor spouting absolute nonsense, has been for a while now. He looks like he's getting sleepy now though, so that'll probably peter out soon.

Castiel and Balthazar are still on the couch, lazily playing Battle Block Theater on Gabriel's playstation. Neither of them are particularly drunk, just a bit buzzed. Castiel likes Mike's Hard Lemonade, but he thinks it would take quite a few of them to actually get him drunk.

Being tipsy is nice though, it makes him laugh more, his limbs are looser, he talks easier. Small secrets come spilling out of his mouth before he even realizes it, like so many colorful marbles.

He tells Balthazar about the list, and his cousin thinks it's brilliant. He leans over the list, pointing at things and exclaiming. When he comes to the bottom he gasps.

“Cassie, you absolute pervert! You watched _pornography_?!” He giggles.

“I did.” Castiel affirms, although he knows that Balthazar is teasing. “I'd never done it before.”

Balthazar shakes his head. “That's so crazy, man.” He grins, pointing to the item two spots further down the list. The one that reads _Never had sex_. “Planning on popping your cherry?”

“At some point.” Castiel huffs.

“Got any candidates?”

And there it is. Here's the moment he's been anticipating, whether or not he should tell his cousin about his newly-realized sexuality. He doesn't think Balthazar will be upset, but it's still scary, and Balthazar is still in touch with the rest of their family. If he lets the secret slip, well, the results could be disastrous.

The alcohol ends up deciding for him, though, because apparently he's blushing and Balthazar notices.

“You do! You like someone, don't you?”

Castiel shakes his head, but his cousin is unconvinced.

“C'mon.” He prods. “Tell me.”

Castiel purses his lips and looks away, but he wants to tell Balthazar. He really does.

“Well,” He starts. “There's... this boy.”

Balthazar sits up straight, eyes wide. Then he's leaning forward, propping his chin up on his hand and grinning like a maniac. “Is there, now?”

“Well, a man, really.”

“Do tell.”

Castiel picks nervously at the label of his beer bottle, and takes a deep breath. “His name is Dean. He's just... really nice. And um, funny. And he always- always makes me feel better when i'm, you know, nervous or something. He's _kind_ , and he's a good big brother and he works really hard.” He trails off, aware that he's gushing.

Balthazar is still smiling at him though. “Is he cute?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, looking down at the bottle in his hands. He nods. “Yeah.”

“ _Well_?” Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Do you have any _pictures_?”

“Oh, um,” Castiel thinks for a moment, then realizes that he does in fact have one. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and starts flipping through the pictures.

“Here.” He holds the phone out to Balthazar. On the screen is a selfie that Dean took a couple of weeks ago. It's of Dean and Castiel both, faces close together, smiling up at the camera. Castiel remembers how happy he'd been when Dean grabbed his phone and took a picture of the two of them, how included he'd felt.

“Ho _ly_ shit!” Balthazar exclaims. “Is he a model? _Please_ tell me he's an underwear model.”

“He's a mechanic.”

Balthazar sighs. “I bet he's good with his hands then, yeah?”

Castiel nods, before he realizes what he's doing.

Balthazar gasps dramatically. “Oh my god. What have you been _doing_ , you naughty thing!”

“It's not like that!” Castiel protests. “He just- he gave me a back massage.”

“A back massage? So are you guys, like, together, or-”

“Oh, no.” Castiel says quickly. “He doesn't even know that I like him.”

Balthazar narrows his eyes at his cousin. “But he's giving you massages and taking cozy selfies with you?”

“I... guess, but-”

“Cassie.” Balthazar interrupts. “Let me tell you something, okay? Just a little advice, from me to you. A little bit of knowledge. Here it is: generally speaking, one platonic male friend does not give another platonic male friend a massage. Girls might, because they're lovely creatures and that's just how they work. Men? No. Men give massages for one of two reasons.” He ticks off his fingers. “One: they're getting paid. Two: sex.”

“A massage isn't sex.” Castiel protests.

Balthazar waves him off. “It's a gateway. There's _hands_ all over skin, rubbing, sometimes there's oil- was there oil?”

“There was lotion.” Castiel admits. “It was unscented.” He adds hurriedly.

“Hmm, and did you take any clothes off?”

“... just my shirt.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Don't look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Balthazar asks innocently.

“You're such an asshole.”  
“Language! And I am being _helpful_. You have a Grade A hottie _right there_ , and you're not going to make any kind of move at all, are you? You need my help.”

“I absolutely do _not_!”

“Well he obviously likes you-

“No, he doesn't!” Castiel snaps. “We're friends. None of your speculating means _anything_. And I don't really want to talk about it any more.”

Balthazar is quiet for a moment, before finally conceding. “Fair enough.”

Castiel sighs and looks down to where is other cousin is now passed out on the floor. “And don't tell Gabriel, okay? Just- we're all friends, and it might make things weird.”

Balthazar leans back on the couch, sighing and rolling his eyes. “Yes, fine. Have it your way.”

“Thanks, Bal.”

Balthazar looks at him. “I really have missed you, you know?” He confesses.

“I missed you too.”

“Maybe i'll move out now too. We'll make a trend of it.”

“God, I hope so.”

Balthazar yawns sleepily. “Can I sleep in your bed?” He wonders.

“I want to sleep in my bed.”

“We can both sleep in your bed, asshole. Not as if we haven’t been sharing since we were in diapers.”

Castiel pouts, but then says, “Fine. But if you hog the covers I’m pushing you off.”

“Okay.” His cousin agrees.

The pair of them get sleepily to their feet, barely managing to make it Castiel's room before collapsing, because at some point they've become very tired without noticing.

The bed is warm with Balthazar in it. He snores, but it's nice to share with someone, even if Castiel wishes it were someone else.


	12. Selling A Purple Satin Suit To A Pimp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short guys, really really.   
> I know it's not a great chapter either.  
> It's been kind of a weird week.  
> But next week they'll be starting the road trip, and I'll try and get you a nice long chapter.

Castiel is pulled from a nice, dreamless sleep when two things happen simultaneously; Balthazar knees him in the side, and someone starts knocking on his bedroom door.

Castiel jerks into a sitting position, mumbling “Come in!” as loud as he can, because his mouth is apparently filled with cotton. Everything is fuzzy because he's still more than half-asleep, but he's pretty sure it's Dean that walks through the door.

Yep, it's Dean. The man takes one look at Castiel and his mouth twists into an unhappy frown.

“I'll, uh, i'll come back later.” He mutters.

He starts to back out the door, but Castiel doesn't want him to leave. The man obviously came here for a reason, and he wants to know what it is. He clamors out of bed, over his cousin who curses him loudly, and stumbles across his room. He catches Dean in the hall.

“Wait!” He says, rubbing at his sleep-filled eyes with one hand, reaching out to snag Dean's wrist with the other. “Where are you going?”

Dean clears his throat, avoiding Castiel's eyes. “Well, uh, it looks like I caught you at a bad time.”

“What?” Castiel wonders, still feeling as though he's missed a vital part of this conversation. “Why would it be a bad time?”

“You've, uh, you've got that guy in there.” Dean mutters.

Castiel finally realizes what he's talking about, and suddenly he's _very_ awake. “Who, _Bal_? No! No, no no no. That's my _cousin_ , Balthazar. He crashed here last night and he slept in my bed because he's whiny asshole who's too good for the couch, apparently.”

Balthazar decides to make an appearance at this point, stumbling out of Castiel's room, headed toward the bathroom.

“The couch isn't good for beauty sleep.” He says.

“Doesn't look like my bed did you much good either.” Castiel tells him. Balthazar flips him off and retreats into the bathroom.

When Castiel looks back at Dean, he finds the man looking sheepish, and a pink tinge is coloring his cheeks.

“Sorry,” He says, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “I thought you, you know-”

“No!” Castiel protests. “Why would you even think-”

“Well it's on your list! I mean- I just figured maybe you decided to go ahead and....” Dean trails off, then shrugs. He's not meeting Castiel's eyes again, for different reasons this time.

Castiel frowns at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think i'm about the last person in the _world_ you should suspect of having a one-night stand.”

Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “I know, I know. I just- I don't know what I thought, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel says finally. “Um... was there a reason you-”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I, uh,” Dean glances toward the kitchen, where Castiel notices Gabriel for the first time, sitting at the kitchen table, munching on the spoonful of frosted flakes and watching them bemusedly. “Can we talk outside?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Let me brush my teeth.”

There stand there for several awkward moments before Balthazar comes out of the bathroom, looking slightly fresher. He saunters over and extends a hand. “You must be Dean.”

“Ah, yeah.” Dean affirms, taking the hand and giving it a shake. “And you're Balthazar.”

“The one and only. Seems like we're both infamous, then. I must say, though, your picture does _not_ do you justice. You have someone special or can I take you out for a drink sometime?”

“Um...” Dean says eloquently, eyes darting from Castiel to Balthazar and back. “I- I, uh. I mean, I appreciate the offer but-”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Balthazar says, waving him off. “I'll go now.” And he goes back into Castiel's room, collapsing again into bed.

“Nice to... meet you.” Dean says, sounding uncertain.

Castiel, just about ready to beat his cousin to death, goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but then finds a second issue in the form of his hair. It looks like something has been trying to nest in it, but then gave up because it was too much of a mess. Castiel curses and quickly tries to tame it, splashing water on it and dragging a comb through. The end result isn't great, but it's better than before. After that, he takes a moment to steel his nerves. This is the first time he's talked to Dean since The Incident, and he's not sure what to expect.

He splashes water on his face, too, trying to wash the sleep from his features. Then, finally unable to stall any longer, he leaves the bathroom.

Dean is still standing where Castiel left him, hands in his pockets, looking awkward. Castiel finds it strange that he hasn't been chatting with Gabriel.

Castiel leads his friend out of the apartment, onto the landing and down the stairs. They end up in the small parking lot behind Cuffs and the other nearby buildings.

“So,” Dean says, looking down at his shoes. “I, um. I wanted to- ah.” He huffs, purses his lips, and looks up at Castiel. “I wanted to apologize” He finally manages to say. “For the other day. The um- my... you know. I just- I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay.” Castiel interrupts, taking pity on him.

Dean looks at him for several long moments. “You're not mad?” He asks, voice soft, almost timid.

Castiel almost laughs aloud, but keeps himself in check. “I'm not mad.” He confirms. “It was kind of an... intimate situation, and our bodies responded accordingly. It happens.”

Dean nods, tension leaving his shoulders that Castiel didn't even realize was there. “Thank, man.” He sighs. “I don't know what i'd have done if you were- hey, wait a minute!” Suddenly Dean is animated, looking at Castiel suspiciously. “You said “our bodies”.”

“What?” Castiel squeaks.

“You said, “Our bodies responded accordingly”. _Our_ bodies. Cas-”

“Um,” Says Castiel, trying desperately to think of a way out of this, cursing himself for such a stupid slip of the tongue.

“Cas.” Dean says again, leaning closer. “Were you hard?” He whispers.

Castiel bites down on his own tongue, willing himself not to say anything stupid or incriminating. But he's starting to blush. He can feel the heat rising up in his face and he knows that in seconds it'll be bright red, and Dean will have his answer.

Sure enough, Dean sucks in a breath. “Holy shit.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “You _were_.”

“Oh my god.” Castiel says, more mortified than he's been in recent memory. “It- it was- I didn't _mean_ to. There was a lot of- of _rubbing_ happening. It was involuntary! I am _so_ sorry!”

Dean lets out a long breath and, to Castiel's surprise, a relieved laugh. “And I fuckin' thought you were gonna be mad.” He says, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “I mean, at least we were both,” He clears his throat here, “you know. So I know you're not going to, like, stop talking to me or something. Right?”

“Of course not!” Castiel assures him. “It was embarrassing but it- it happens. It's not something I would ever stop talking to you over.”

“What, ever?”

“Um, no?”

“So it's okay if it happens again?” Dean teases, smile lifting the edge of his mouth.

“Ha!” Castiel laughs, feeling manic. “Ha! Y- um, I- uh.” Boy, Castiel really wishes he could tell whether or not Dean is joking.

Dean is looking at him kind of strange though, leaning closer into his space than is generally acceptable, and Castiel's heartbeat is picking up speed.

“Hey, Cas!” Calls a voice from the apartment.

Startled, Dean takes a step back, and the moment is gone. Castiel curses under his breath, kind of wishing his cousin were anywhere else in the world right now. Maybe being mauled by something with very sharp teeth.

“What, Gabriel?!” He calls back.

“Get up here, I need a favor.”

Castiel climbs the stairs back up to the apartment, fuming and gritting his teeth. He comes to the landing and finds Gabriel leaning against the doorframe.

“What?” He snaps. “What do you want?”

“Okay, alright, no need to get snippy.” Gabriel frowns.

Castiel sighs, taking a moment to remind himself that Gabriel's _godawful_ timing is not his fault.

“Sorry.” He says, kinder this time. “What was it you needed?”

“Weeeell.” Gabreil grumbles. “If you're done being a grump. I was going to see if you would watch the shop for an hour.”

“What? No way! I'd be terrible in the shop, you've said so yourself.”

“Just for an hour, okay? I've got an appointment and I can't get anyone else to open.”

Castiel throws his hands into the air. “Well I don't know how to open! I've never even worked the register.”

“I'll show you!” Gabriel assures him. “It's super easy, come on!”

He takes Castiel by the wrist and pulls him down the stairs. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the back door of Cuffs, and drags Castiel inside. Castiel stumbles behind him all the way to the cast register, where Gabriel turns the thing on and shows him the controls.

“Look. You scan the item, and the price pops up, you press this button here and it gives you the subtotal. You tell the customer, they give you money. You type in the amount they give you, and press this button _here_. It pops open the drawer and tells you how much change to give. It's so easy, a baby could do it. And I have.” He grins at his own joke. “Come on, Cassie, what do you say? Just for an hour. I'd owe you, man, I'd owe you huge.” He clasps his hands in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

Castiel sighs. “What if someone calls?” He asks, gesturing to the phone next to the register.

“Tell them to call back in an hour.” Gabriel explains. “Tell them you're a temporary replacement, and that i'll be back shortly.”

“Fine.” Castiel grumbles. “But you'd better hurry up.”

Gabriel grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him close to place a wet kiss on his cheek. “You're the best!” He says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Castiel rolls his eyes.

 

This is not how Castiel wanted to spend his Wednesday morning.

The shop is not _full_ , per-se, but it is much busier than Castiel thought it would be. There's a steady stream of customers coming and going. Castiel has no problem ringing them up, and he bags their purchases with ease, it's just... the questions.

So many of them have questions! About where _this_ goes, and what _that_ does, and whether or not his brand is water based. Does this one stimulate that spot, what's the best for this particular feeling.

Castiel does not know. He has no idea. Less than that, even, if there's such a thing. He has less than no idea.

Thankfully, instead of going home like decent humans, Dean and Balthazar are both in the shop with him, and what one doesn't know the other is sure to.

Currently Dean is talking to a woman, extolling the virtues of a particular dildo because it's just so _lifelike_ , and Castiel is pretty sure that Balthazar is helping an elderly couple pick out anal beads.

What the fuck is his life anymore? He watches his friends move around his cousin's sex shop that he lives above, and he can't think of an answer. His life is unreal.

Dean picks up a bright pink dildo and holds it side by side with the other. “ _This_ one, though, is fantastic for hitting all those good spots. _And_ it vibrates.”

Absolutely unreal, Castiel thinks.


	13. Salmonella Mac and Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which:  
> \- our characters start off on their road trip  
> \- Castiel gets jealous  
> \- he and Dean have a little bit of a spat  
> \- they make up  
> \- no one knows what salmonella is

The day they head out on the road is rainy and humid. They've been preparing for weeks, gathering supplies and saving money and planning routes. Alongside their luggage they have non-perishables and camping equipment, tents and sleeping bags and camp stoves.

Gabriel is beside himself with worry over handing over the keys to Cuffs to Meg, who will be the one opening while they're gone. She'll also be responsible for training the two new people Gabriel just hired, which seems to fill him with dread.

Sam is excited enough for all of them, buzzing with energy, smiling like a lunatic the entire time they're packing up. Dean... Castiel can't really tell. He seems happy, seems excited, but subdued also. Maybe it's just because he's older.

As for Castiel, he's anxious. He wants to go on this trip, yes, but he's worried about a lot of things. Not the least of which is how he'll do on a long car ride. He's also been thinking quite a bit about being stuck in cars with Dean, with whom he has _not_ talked about the Massage Incident again, and he can't decide if he's glad of it or not.

“Hey,” Dean says, coming up next to Castiel where he stands looking at the car with obvious dread etched on his features. “You okay?”

“Just... apprehensive.” He admits.

“Don't worry about it.” Dean tells him easily. “I'll drive slow, you can roll down the window any time you need to. If you want me to stop the car, just say so, okay? Hell, you can even pick the music.”

“You'll let me pick the music?” Castiel asks, stunned. Dean doesn't let anybody else pick the music, ever. Touch his radio and he gets downright pissy.

“Well, yeah.” Dean confirms, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I want you to be, uh, comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Castiel says, smiling at his friend.

Dean looks at him for a moment, before turning his gaze back to his car.

“You guys ready?!” Sam shouts, shutting the trunk over the last of their luggage.

“We're ready.” Dean tells him, grinning. He strides over to the driver's side and opens the door. “Cas gets shotgun.”

“Aw, what?!” Sam whines.

“He'll do better in the front.” Dean explains. “Besides, my car, my rules. Shut your yap and get in the back.”

Sam sticks his tongue childishly out at his brother before sliding into the back seat with Gabriel, but he doesn't complain.

Dean stands by his open door and watches Castiel as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door. They share a look over the hood of the car, Dean gives him a thumbs up, and Castiel shoots back a tight-lipped smile. They get in and Dean starts up the car. Castiel feels a small jolt of panic when the vehicle rumbles to life, but it quickly subsides.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

“Yes.” Castiel tells him. “Lets go.”

“Alrighty then, here we go.”

 

Things are not as bad as Castiel expected them to be. Yes, he feels a bit sick to his stomach. Yes, he's on the edge of a panic attack, teetering on the brink, about to plummet into the dark abyss of terror below. Otherwise, though, it's not too bad. He's rolled down his window, and has one arm dangling out, and it's somehow keeping him on the right side of sanity.

As the sun slowly warms his exposed skin, and the muted warbling from the radio washes over him, he starts to feel a little better. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift into the in-between, not quite awake, not quite asleep. It's okay there, everything is good. Sounds are softer, blurred around the edges, everything is less harsh. He hangs there in the middle for what seems like hours until Dean runs over a pothole in the road and it jolts him back to the car.

“You okay?” Dean asks, glancing sideways at Castiel, who is looking bewildered.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Castiel says. It's just hard getting used to being all the way awake again, and he's a little sleepy. “What's goin' on?”

“Nothin' much.” Dean replies. “Nothin' to see yet, just fields. Corn, corn, and more corn.”

“I like corn fields.” Castiel tells him, watching the golden stalks wave gently back and forth in the wind, bowing and rippling like water. “They're pretty.”

“Maybe.” Dean says thoughtfully. “Same ol', though. I'm looking forward to seeing something new.”

Castiel hums in agreement, leaning his head back against the warm seat. Behind him Sam and Gabriel are waxing on about movies, and Castiel listens. He enjoys listening, and somehow he feels a part of the conversation, even though he's not. He could listen to them talk all day.

When he looks up, he finds Dean watching him.

“Falling asleep again?” The man asks.

“I wasn’t asleep before.” Castiel corrects him. “You should keep your eyes on the road.”

Dean scoffs, but turns back to the front window. “You're not bored?” He asks after a moment.

“No.” Castiel finds himself smiling. “I'm enjoying myself quite a bit, actually.”

“You're fuckin' weird, man.” Dean tells him.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I like it.”

 

That first day, they drive until it gets dark. Once they cross into Colorado they find the cheapest motel they can find and they crash there for the night. There's only one, queen-sized bed, and Dean and Gabriel share it because they're older, while Sam and Castiel sleep on the floor in sleeping bags. Dean, of course, wakes up complaining about Gabriel's kicking, and Gabriel's snoring, and Gabriel's habit of stealing all of the covers. Gabriel, however, seems well rested.

“Okay!” Dean says, once they're all awake. “So what are we going to do in Colorado?”

They're all spread out across the room now, munching on questionable complementary bagels from the motel's office.

“Get baked.” Supplies Gabriel.

“I, for one, don't think that's a good idea.” Sam interjects, leveling a glare at Gabriel.

“Four twenty. Blaze it, fuckface.” Gabriel replies.

“We could go to the Garden of the Gods!” Castiel supplies. “I've never been, but I was looking it up and they have nature hikes, it looks really cool!”

Dean and Gabriel just stare at him. Dean's eyebrows have risen high up on his forhead, and Gabriel looks honestly disgusted.

Sam, though, latches on to this idea right away.

“Yes! Perfect! That's, like, the perfect thing to do in Colorado, right? Garden of the Gods! You're a genius, Cas!”

“Um. What?” Says Gabriel. “No way, man. I'm not going on a fuckin' _hike_. What I look like, a friggin'... hiker?”

Castiel frowns. “I thought it was a good idea.” He mutters.

“Okay, how about this,” Dean says, holding his hands up to get everyone to quiet down. “Sam and Cas go do their nature hike or whatever, and me and Gabe will fuck around in the area until you're done. We'll find a bar or catch a movie or some shit. Yeah?”

“Okay.” Sam agrees. He doesn't look happy, but Castiel knows it's about the best deal they're likely to get, and Sam probably knows too.

“A titty bar?” Gabriel asks, perking up.

“We'll see.” Dean says.

It's not a confirmation that Dean and Gabriel will go to a strip club, but it still leaves a sour taste in Castiel's mouth the whole drive to Colorado Springs. He doesn't like the thought of Dean in a strip club, looking at scantily clad people, _enjoying_ looking at scantily clad people. Okay, yeah, it's not like he has any right to be jealous. Dean isn't his, Dean isn't even aware that Castiel maybe sort-of likes him. He has every right to go to a strip club.

Castiel can't stop himself from dwelling on the thought though, and it makes him sullen. By the time they get there, Dean has noticed that something is up.

They pull up to the visitor’s center, and all four of them get out to stretch their legs. Sam and Gabriel go running up the sidewalk to a couple of vending machines that stand by the doors, but Dean grabs Castiel's elbow and pulls him back.

“Hey,” He says. “If you really want us to go hiking or whatever, we'll go.”

But he doesn't want to. Castiel can see it on his face, as plain as if it were written on his forehead in marker, and for some reason this sort of pisses Castiel off.

“No.” He says peevishly. “Go have fun at a strip club or whatever.”

“Cas-”

“What?” Castiel interrupts. He knows he's being kind of a jerk right now, but that's not quite enough to stop him from doing it.

“We might see a movie.”

Castiel shrugs. “Whatever.” He says. “Doesn't matter to me.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Why you bein' a dick about this, man?”

“I'm not!” Castiel bristles. “I _just_ said that it didn't matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know you said that, but you said it in a way that made it sound like it totally mattered to you.”

“Well, it doesn't.” Castiel lies.

Dean looks down at his feet for a moment, and when he raises his head again he looks frustrated.

“Fine.” He says, voice tight. “Gabe! Come on, we're going to a strip club!”

“Woo!” Gabriel shouts from up by the doors. “Titties!”

Dean turns and gets back in the car to wait for Gabriel. “Call us when you're done.” He says, pointedly not looking at Castiel.

“Okay.” Castiel says. His voice sounds small, and he kind of feels like he wants to throw up, and also cry a little. Dean is mad at him. He hadn't wanted that. But... what _had_ he wanted? It's hard to say. His feelings are all sort of tangled up and confused and he doesn't know how to act. He likes Dean, but he doesn't _want_ to like Dean, not if the feeling isn't mutual. And how is he supposed to tell if the feeling is mutual? He has no idea.

But then Dean and Gabriel are driving off, and Castiel has to put on a fake happy face for Sam, because he doesn't want to ruin his friend's day.

Sam, of course, notices his mood. Fifteen minutes into their nature hike, Sam is passing him a bottle of water and asking, “So, what's up, dude?”

“Hmm?”

“You seem... upset.”

“I'm not upset.”

“Okay.”

Castiel sighs. “I just, I wish they'd come with us. I think they would have had fun. It's so cool here!” He gestures at their surroundings. Unusual rock formations are everywhere, and hills, and flowers, and it's beautiful.

“Yeah, I know.” Sam huffs. “They could be out here, enjoying nature with us, and instead they're in some dark, germy club.”

“Why?”

“They're idiots, Cas. I thought you knew that.”

Castiel laughs, despite himself. “Yeah, I guess I should have taken that into account.”

“Look, it'll probably take us a few days to get things sorted out, you know?” Sam says, stepping over a limb in the path. “We'll figure things out.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, man.” Sam assures him. “Also, that rock looks like a dick.”

“Yeah.” Castiel agrees. “That one over there does too.”

Turns out, most of the rocks look like dicks.

 

When Castiel and Sam are done with their hike, they're bone tired. They're sore and achy and hot. But also, they're happy. They had a lot of fun, saw a lot of cool stuff, spent the day in the sunshine. It's been a while since Castiel has had the chance to really talk to just Sam, and it was nice. After all, he was Castiel's friend first. He feels better, too. He's not sure what exactly has done it, but he doesn't feel sick with jealosy and guilt anymore.

Dean and Gabriel show up about fifteen minutes after Sam calls to tell them that he and Castiel are ready. When Sam gets into the car, he wrinkles his nose.

“You guys smell like herpes.” He announces.

“Well you smell like B.O.” Gabriel counters.

“At least we exercised.”

“My dick got some exercise.” Gabriel grins. “Poor guy is tuckered out from all the excitement. You ever had a lap dance, Cassie? They're great.”

“Um... no.” Castiel says, exasperated. “When would I ever have had a lap dance?”

But Gabriel is no longer listening, instead staring out the driver's side wistfully. “There was this one dancer...” He mumbles, then trails off.

“You didn't get a lap dance, did you?” Sam asks Dean, frowning.

“No.” Dean says quickly. Somehow, his eyes find Castiel's in the rear-view mirror, but Castiel looks quickly away before he can decipher the look that Dean is giving him.

Sam narrows his eyes and leans over the back of the front-seat. “Then why do you have glitter all over you?” He asks.

“Er, situational hazard?” He says. “I'm not gonna waste our money, Sam, you know that.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam says finally.

They spend the rest of the day seeing the sights in Colorado Springs. They drive around the city, they stop at malls and take pictures in front of statues. They get their supper from a cheap food cart and eat it sitting on the sidewalk watching a man juggle baseballs. Castiel gives him all the change he has in his pockets.

While looking for a place to stay the night, they make the mistake of stopping at a grocery store. Gabriel dashes inside, saying he just needs to grab a couple things, and doesn't emerge until a half hour later, pushing a cart overflowing with boxes of generic brand macaroni and cheese.

“What the _fuck_?” Dean says when he spies Gabriel's bounty.

“I know, right?” Gabriel beams. “They were on sale. Good deal, right?”

Sam stands there gaping, while Dean drops his head into his hands.

“I cannot believe you did this.” Castiel groans.

“What? I bought us food!” Gabriel protests.

“You bought,” Sam leans over to look at the boxes. “what looks to be about fifty boxes of Mac and Cheese.”

“Yeah, so?” Gabriel asks, seeming bewildered about the group's sudden negativity.

“So,” Dean says, lifting his head from his hands. “Did you not think we might, I don't know, get sick of it at some point?”

Gabriel scoffs. “Who gets sick of Mac and Cheese?”

“Good lord.” Dean mumbles. “It's cool, man. Whatever. But, uh, maybe Cas should carry your money. Just so, you know, you don't spend all of it the first couple days.”

Gabriel grumbles a little, but does end up handing over his wad of cash to his cousin.

“Keep it secret.” He says seriously, clapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder. “Keep it safe.”

 

The second night, they drive into the woods off a long stretch of nowhere and find a small stream to camp next to.

Castiel is unfamiliar with camping, but they have two tents, bottled water, a tripod to go over their fire. He and Sam put up the tents, while Dean and Gabriel build a fire and surround it by rocks. After a while, Castiel wanders off in the direction of the stream. He sits down on a fallen tree near the water, letting the soft bubbling of water over rock sooth him. It's nice, peaceful. The only sounds here are quiet and soft, nothing like the harshness of town. He lets his eyes drift shut, and tries to clear his mind. It doesn't work. There's just too much nonsense bouncing around in there.

“Cas?” Comes a voice, hesitant, from somewhere behind him.

“Hmm?”

“Where are you?”

“Over by the stream.” He calls back.

“You're not, like, taking a shit or something are you?”

“Nope.”

A moment later, Dean is sitting down on the log next to him. He smells like smoke from the campfire.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hi.”

“So,” Dean starts, scratching the side of his nose. “I was thinking. Tomorrow, maybe we could go to another park or something and like... take a nature hike or whatever?”

Castiel frowns at him. “What?”

“A nature hike. Like the one you guys did today. You had fun, right?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says, suspicion lacing his voice. “Do I need to remind you that you don't like hiking? Should I remind you of your reaction earlier today when I suggested a hike and you guys acted like it was the worst idea you'd ever heard?”

“Yeah, okay, this is me apologizing, dickhead.”

“Wonderful job.”

“Cas, c'mon.” Dean sighs. “I really am sorry, okay? Come on.”

Castiel is quiet, mulling things over.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I didn't have a very good time?”

“Yes.” Castiel says firmly.

Dean tries to conceal his grin, and fails miserably. He leans close to Castiel, breath puffing against his friend's cheek. “Cas, I had an awful time. I should have gone with you and Sam.”

Castiel sighs, a little dramatic. “Okay, fine. I'm not mad at you anymore.”

Dean reaches up and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Good, 'cause your sulking was really bumming me out.”

“I was _not_!”

Dean laughs. “Sure you weren’t. Come on, Gabriel said he'd make supper and I don’t trust him.”

“Good call.”

Gabriel has, of course, decided to make macaroni and cheese, and he's trying to use water from the stream.

“Why?” Sam is asking when Dean and Castiel come back to camp. “ _Why_ would you use stream water? He have bottled water _right here_!” He brandishes a large bottle of water, looking like he's seconds away from hitting Gabriel with it.

“I'm not going to _waste_ our water supply when there's perfectly good water from _nature_!” Gabriel rolls his eyes and puts his pot full of stream water on the tripod over the fire. “ _Duh_.”

“Dude!” Dean pipes up. “You can't just go around drinking water in the woods! You get, like, salmonella or some shit.”

“Um,” Says Castiel. “I'm not sure you can get salmonella from water. I think it comes from eating undercooked fish... right?”

“Cas, the stream is _full_ of uncooked fish!”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“So it's got to be in the water, right? That water is probably _full_ of salmonella!” He points accusingly toward Gabriel's pot of water.

“I don't think that's right,” Castiel mumbles, mostly to himself. “but I don't really know that much about salmonella.”

“If I boil it, it's fine!” Gabriel protests.

“That's not true.” Sam says. “We need water purifying tablets. Which we _don't_ have. You shouldn't cook with that!”

“I do what I want!”

“Whatever, man!” Dean throws his hands up in the air. “I hope you get salmonella and shit your pants.”

Gabriel frowns. “Does it make you shit your pants?”

“Actually,” Sam says, stepping forward. “It-”

“Yes!” Dean interrupts. “And then your dick falls off. Not that you'd be able to tell the difference.”

“That's true!” Castiel says earnestly. “It totally makes your dick fall off.”

“Fuck you guys! You fuckin' naysayers. Always bringin' me down! I'm making this goddamn mac and cheese and you fuckers can't have _any_!” Gabriel stares angrily into his pot of heating water.

“You guys really think this has salmonella in it?” He asks after a few long moments of silence.

“It definitely has _something_ you shouldn't drink.” Castiel tells him.

“Ugh!” Gabriel groans, as dramatically as he can, grabbing the pot and dumping the water out onto the ground. “Fine! Give me one of those fuckin' water bottles, asshole.”

They eat macaroni and cheese (made with water from a bottle), canned beans, and canned peaches. It's as good a meal as any, and Castiel is beginning to think he might actually like camping. He enjoys being here around the fire with his friends, watching their face in the flickering firelight. The sun is going down, casting purple shadows over the trees. But then the bugs come out, and they all decide that it's time to bunker down.

They only brought two tents, so they have to share, and before that conversation even starts Dean throws his hands into the air and yells, “Dibs on Cas!”

“Excuse me?” Castiel says.

“I'm not sleeping in the same tent as Gabriel!” Sam protests.

“Well neither am I! He snores, and you,” Dean points to Sam, “Are a dirty blanket stealer! Cas doesn't snore, kick, or steal blankets. He's the perfect bed-buddy, and I already called dibs so suck it.”

“How do _you_ know Cas is a good bed-buddy?” Sam asks, eyes narrowed.

“We slept together.” Dean says nonchalantly, taking a swig from his water bottle, unaware of the mini heart-attack he's currently giving both Sam and Castiel.

“What?! You didn't _tell me_?!”

“God, calm down, not like _that_.” Dean rolls his eyes. “He had a nightmare one night and I let him sleep in my bed.”

“Oh.” Sam says, hand over his heart. He clears his throat. “Ah, alright. I'll just.” He sits down on the ground.

Castiel changes into his pajamas in the car, while Dean does the same in the tent, and then Castiel crawls in and they unroll a sleeping bag. They unzip it and lay it out, because it's still pretty warm out. They've got one blanket and two pillows, and before they know it they're laying side-by-side.

They talk a little, about things that don't really matter that much, and then Dean says, “G'night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel replies.

And they sleep, turned toward each other, curled inward, knees touching.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of them actually know what salmonella is.
> 
>  
> 
> -Food may be contaminated during food processing or food handling.  
>  -Food may become contaminated by the unwashed hands of an infected food handler. A frequent cause is a food handler who does not wash his or her hands with soap after using the bathroom.  
>  -Salmonella may also be found in the feces of some pets, especially those with diarrhea. You can become infected if you do not wash your hands after contact with these feces.  
>  -Reptiles, baby chicks and ducklings, and small rodents such as hamsters are particularly likely to carry Salmonella. You should always wash your hands immediately after handling one of these animals, even if the animal is healthy. Adults should also be careful that children wash their hands after handling reptiles, pet turtles, baby chicks or ducklings, or small rodents.


	14. Adventures at Nighttime

Castiel never dreams of nice things anymore. He doesn't dream of fields of flowers, of flying kites, of swimming in the ocean. He doesn't dream of dancing slowly with faceless strangers, of solving mysteries, of being intimate with another.

The dreamless nights are the best, the ones that begin and end in an instant, in the space between breaths. Over and done with before any shadows have time to crawl into this head.

It's much better than the alternative. Everything else is pain and death, screaming, unquantifiable fear. The horrifying knowledge that he's going to die and there's nothing he can do about it, that he's going to die blank, like a plain piece of paper. The shadows are there too, although he never remembers them when he wakes, they stretch their claws out toward him. Gaping maws full of dripping, razor-sharp teeth snap at him, and he can't get away. He can never get away.

Tonight... is not a good night.

Castiel gasps awake. He's terrified, his heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his head, he's flailing, he's hitting something solid.

“Hey,” He hears. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel shakes his head and keeps his eyes closed because he can't shake the irrational fear that's clinging to his bones like glue and he's pretty sure if he opens them he's going to cry. He can't cry in front of Dean again, he's done it too many times already.

But then hands are pressing at his arms and his shoulders, brushing at his hair, and he has to open his eyes. Sure enough, as soon as he seen Dean leaning over him, barely visible in the middle-of-the-night darkness, he can't stop the emotion from welling up and spilling over and he's sobbing again.

Dean, because he's an ever-patient angel, grabs him and pulls him close.

“It was just a dream.” He whispers into Castiel's hair. “Just a dream. You're here now, okay? You're safe.”

Castiel's fingers move of their own volition, curling in Dean's shirt until he's got the fabric scrunched tight in his fists. He presses his forehead into Dean's chest as hard as he can, willing the darkness out.

It's Dean's hands that do it though. They move gently up and down his back, rubbing circles, then just touching, then to his arms.

Neither of them say anything more for a very long time. Castiel's fingers eventually relax, leaving his hands pressed against Dean's chest. He moves his head so that it's closer to his shoulder. Dean's hands slow after some time, but they don't stop. They trace shapes over his skin that feel strangely intimate, even though there's fabric separating one man's skin from the other's.

“I'm sorry.” Castiel says after a long time. “I can't seem to- there's always-” He trails off, not quite sure of the words. The feeling is there, in the front of his mind, but his mouth can't seem to form the right consonants.

“It's okay.” Dean tells him, breath warm in Castiel's hair.

Castiel shakes his head, nose brushing against the warm fabric of Dean's shirt. “Every time things are going okay, something happens. Or I- I have a panic attack or-”

“Cas.” Dean stops him, gently. “Worse things have happened. I promise. Your panic attacks-”

“They're an inconvenience! Every time I have one everybody has to drop everything and deal with me. I'm a burden and I hate it!” He babbles, tongue loosened with sleep and emotion, head clouded.

“You're not a burden. I swear. Hey, look at me.” Dean takes Castiel's chin in hand and tilts his face up toward his own so that they can look each other in the eye. Their faces are scant inches apart now, so close that Castiel can feel Dean's breath on his lips when he talks.

“None of us think you're a burden. I promise. And there are worse things than dealing with you, man. In fact, I like dealing with you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, not convinced.

“No, I do.” Dean reassures him. “You're a good guy. So you need a little extra TLC. So what? I am _full_ of TLC.”

Castiel can't help smiling now, although he's still teary-eyed. “Are you sure?”

“Cas,” Dean huffs in mock exasperation, fingers releasing his friend's chin. “Sam is too old for hugs now, apparently. What am I supposed to do with all these damn hugs I’ve got? They're backing up, I have a surplus of hugs. You've _got_ to take some of them off of my hands before I explode.”

“You're so fucking lame.” Castiel wipes wetness from his face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want them or not?”

Castiel is still for a moment and then, sheepishly, he nods.

Dean pulls him close again, until they're flush against each other, his arms wrapped around Castiel's middle. Castiel slips his arms under Dean's and hugs him back. He can't remember the last time he felt secure this way, so held, so safe. He rests his head against Dean's shoulder again, breathing in the heady smell of him.

They stay this way for a while, Dean's breath evens out until Castiel would have thought him asleep but for the way his thumb draws circles on Castiel's back. Castiel has almost slipped into sleep himself when he realizes that his bladder feels uncomfortably full.

“Um.” He says.

“Hmm?”

“I, uh, I have to pee.”

“Oh,” Dean retracts his arms slowly. “Okay.”

Castiel sits up, careful not to lean on Dean, and moves to the front of the tent, but when he unzips the front flap and peeks out, he stops.

“You okay?” Dean asks, after he's been sitting there for a minute.

“Oh, um. Yeah. I just...” He swallows. “I don't want to go by myself.” He whispers.

He can hear the rustle of the sleeping bag as Dean moves beside him.

“What? Why not?”

“It's really dark.”

“Dude, you're an adult.”

“It's really, really dark, Dean.”

“What do you want me to do, man?”

“Come with me?”

“Okay, what? No. I'm not gonna go with you to pee, we're not high-school girls.”

Castiel wrings his hands, looking out into the night. “What if something gets me?”

“What the- how _old_ are you? Are you twelve?”

“Dean, _what if something gets me_?”

“Are you fuckin' serious right now? Cas, are you afraid of the dark?”

“Yes! Okay? I'm afraid of the dark! I can't _see_ anything, and that's scary! How is that not scary to you? Do you not feel fear? Are you a robot, Dean? Are you a robot?”

“No! Jesus Christ, man, calm down!”

“You calm down!”

“Both of you calm down!” Comes a disembodied voice from their left, that sounds suspiciously like Sam. “You woke me up, you idiots!”

“And _he_ woke _me_ up!” Comes a fourth voice, Gabriel. “I hate all of you!”

“Just go with him to pee, Dean!” Sam yells. “It's not gonna kill you!”

“It might!” Says Dean. “What if there's bears or some shit out there?”

“Ha!” Castiel cries, pointing at Dean. “I knew it! You don't want to go out there either!”

“Yeah, I don't want to get eaten by a bear, you caught me.”

“Well I don't want to get eaten either! But I have to pee!”

“So just go and I'll just fuckin'- I don't know- I’ll watch from the tent.”

“I don't want you to _watch_ me pee, you creeper!”

“I won't _watch_ watch, It's too dark to see anything anyway. I'll just, you know, watch.”

“What?! That doesn't even make sense! And if you can't see me then what's the point?”

“Um...”

“Yeah.”

“Well...”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Just _come with me_!” Castiel whines.

“Fine!” Dean gives in. “Let's go! I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new.”

They scramble gracelessly out of the tent, and Castiel grabs for Dean's hand as he stumbles blindly around. He can see just a little, and when he feels like he's far enough away from the tent he starts to pull down his pajama bottoms.

Dean realizes what he's doing and yanks his hand away from Castiel's. “Man, I’m not gonna hold your hand while you piss!” He hisses.

“Why not?” Castiel asks.

“'cause its weird!”

“Just hold my goddamn hand!”

“Hold your own hand!”  
“No!”

“Oh my god! Okay. You know what. Here.” Dean puts his hand on Castiel's shoulder. “Does that help?”

“I _guess_.”

“Then pee already!”

Castiel huffs. “I can't do it with you standing here.” He mutters.

“Are you kidding me?”

Castiel frowns down at himself and the troubling lack of pee. “Unfortunately not.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Cas.”

“Yeah, okay. It was a flawed plan.”

“I hate you right now, you know that, right?”

“I did assume. Okay, just shut up for a minute. Maybe if I forget you're here I can pee.”

“You better not forget I’m here, you dragged my ass out here, I'm out here now, fucker.”

“Shush!”

“Hey! What? Did you just shush me? Did you just _shush me_?”

“Yes! Shut up!”

“I can't believe you're telling me to shut up when your hand is literally on your dick right now.”

“What does that have to do with _anything_?”

“A man fondling his dick just told me to shut up. I just find that interesting.”

“I am not _fondling_! I am aiming!”

“What the fuck are you aiming at? We're in the woods, just pee wherever!”

“Will you just _shut up_!?”

“Yeah! Fine!”

There's a long silence, then, finally, the sound of liquid hitting the forest floor.

“ _Oh_ my god.” Castiel sighs. “I thought I was never going to pee! I thought I was going to explode.”

“Okay, are you done?”

“Give me a second!”

“Just hurry up, I think I heard something.”

“You _heard something_? What did you hear?!”

“Nothing! Like, a twig or something.”

“A twig?” Castiel hisses, pulling his pants back up. “Like what kind of twig? Like a big twig?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“What if it's a bear?!”

Dean freezes. “Holy shit, what if it's a bear?”

“ _Right_?!”

“Let's go, _let's go_!”

They rush back to the tent, Castiel trips over a root but they're otherwise unscathed. They fall inside and Dean hurriedly zips the opening back up while Castiel hides under the covers. He pokes his head up above the the blanket.

“Is there a bear?” He whispers loudly.

“I don't fuckin' know, man.” Dean whisper back, scrambling over to the pile of blankets and Castiel. “Maybe. I can't tell. Let's just keep quiet and if there's a bear maybe he'll go away.” He burrows under the blankets next to Castiel.

“So, what? We just wait and see if a bear eats us?”

“Yep. That's the plan.”

“You suck at plans, Winchester.”

“Yeah, well I don't see you having any big ideas, _Collins_.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Fine, we'll just go to sleep and if we wake up dead we'll know we've been eaten.”

“Nothing about that made any sense, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well... alright then.”

“Do you think you'd be upset?”

“What?”

“If you died.” Castiel explains. “Do you think you'd be upset about it?”

“I don't think I’d be anything. I'd just be dead.”

“Yeah, but. Okay. I mean, if you died right now, do you think you'd be okay with it?”

“That's a weird question, dude.”

“Yeah.”

Through the darkness, Castiel sees Dean shrug. “I dunno. Sometimes... sometimes I think I’ve pretty much peaked. I made it through high-school, I made sure Sam grew up alright. There's not a whole lot else, you know? I mean, there's like, relationships and a family and shit, but what's that even mean, really? It's just waiting for the end with somebody else, as opposed to doing it on your own.

“But then... sometimes I go on road-trips with my brother and my best friend and his cousin. And it's like, yeah, this is it. This is how shit's supposed to be. There's so much more to do. You know?”

Castiel looks at Dean, who looks back at him. “I'm your best friend?”

“Well... yeah. Yeah, man, you kinda are.”

“You're my best friend too.”

“Well you haven’t really met very many people, have you?”

“Don't ruin this.”

“I'm just sayin'.”

“We were having a nice moment and you ruined it. You're a moment ruiner.”

“Is that a word?”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel says, rolling away.

“'night, Cas.”

“Hey... Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I...”

“What?”

“Would it be totally weird if I asked for another hug?”

“Nah, man. Get over here.”

 

-o-

 

Castiel wakes again at dawn. He can hear the sweet trill of birds chirping nearby, feel the barest of chills creeping through the early air. He wriggles, and discovers that there's an arm around his middle, something firm against his back. It's Dean, he remembers suddenly, smelling the smokey scent of last night's fire on his friend's arm. Dean is curled up against his back, they're cuddling once again.

There's a voice inside his head telling him that cuddling with Dean is not a good idea. It's different for him than it would be for other people, because he likes Dean beyond friendship, and because he falls easily. Despite his natural introversion, when he likes someone, he usually likes them _a lot._ The extremely religious nature of his family has kept Castiel from pursuing any crushes, but it goes the same for friendship as well. Castiel doesn't have people who are only sort of his friend, either they aren’t, or they're as good as family.

This tends to creep people out, however, and he hasn't let himself have friends this close in years. And then he went and reconnected with a cousin, got himself two best friends, and started sleeping in the same space as one of them, started goddamn _spooning_ with one of them. It's stupid, is what it is.

He's aware. He's very, very aware of how stupid it is. He can't seem to stop though, can't seem to distance himself. Dean opens his arms and it's like magnetism, or gravity, and Castiel just can't help himself.

He can't say he doesn't like it, either. He loves it. He loves the feeling of Dean at his back, arms wrapped around Castiel's middle, one leg hiked up over both of Castiel's. It's not just the fact that his fun bits are pressed against Castiel's, either. It's the intimacy of the thing, the fact that every time Castiel wakes up next to Dean he feels close to him. He feels like he knows him better and better, like if he keeps it up one day he's going to wake up and be able to see Dean's soul.

Dean stirs at his back, hand tightening by Castiel's navel. He snuffles at Castiel's hair, and then he stretches, bowing his body in a long curve that Castiel can feel pressed against his back. When he relaxes again, he yawns, then puts his chin on the other man's shoulder.

“Cas?” He says. “You awake?”

“Yes.” Castiel replies.

“Good. I'm bored.”

Castiel turns in Dean's arms to face him, face a mask of disbelief. “You've been up for two seconds, how are you bored?”

Dean shrugs, nonplussed. “Dunno. I'm just bored.”

“I don't know what you expect me to do about it.”

Dean frowns. “You mean you aren't ready at all times to entertain me at the drop of a hat?”

“I'm really not.”

Dean lets out an exaggerated sigh and flops down onto his back. “That's too bad. I guess I’ll just have to find myself another best friend.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Fuck you.” He says, good naturedly. “Like you could find anyone else willing to put up with you anyway.”

“Hey, I could get another best friend! I could get _any_ best friend I wanted. I'll have you know, I'm adorable.”

“Ahuh. Sure.”

“Charlie loves me.”

“Well, I guess there's bound to be one person in the world.”

“ _Ouch_! Low blow, Collins. Low. Blow.”

Castiel shrugs and goes to sit up. “I'm hungry, you coming?”

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Despite the nice start, the day does not progress nearly as well. They pack up camp early, ready to hit the road, but they don't get two feet before Castiel is seized with a panic that wont abate no matter what any of them try. Eventually, they accept that they won't be going anywhere today. They unpack, and start looking for things to do.

“My phone is almost dead.” Gabriel grumbles. “Can I charge it in your car?”

“No.” Says Dean. He's splayed out on the ground, shirtless and wearing sunglasses, atop someone's blanket. He has decided to “catch some rays” while they wait.

“Here.” Sam tosses something square at Gabriel. “You can use this.”

“What the...” Gabriel turns the thing around in his hands. It's black, with a wire coming out one end, and a little solar panel on one side. “You brought a solar charger? You fuckin' genius!”

“I've been known to have good ideas.”

“Speaking of good ideas,” Gabriel says, brightening.

“No.” Castiel growls preemptively. Gabriel ignores him.

“I saw this lake over that way yesterday,” He points. “We should totally go for a swim.”

“In a _lake_?!” Castiel grimaces. “That's so gross.”

“Doesn't sound like a bad idea, actually.” Dean interjects. “I could swim.”

“We don't have swim trunks.” Sam reminds them.

“We can use nature's trunks.” Gabriel tells him. “It's called “the nude” and you have it with you at all times.”

“I don't wanna see your dick, man.” Dean groans.

“Well too bad! You'd better get used to the idea because it's happening! Come on!”

They crash through the woods toward the lake, despite Castiel's almost constant objections and worries about unsanitary conditions.

The lake, as it turns out, is actually quite beautiful, even though Castiel is still pretty sure they shouldn't be swimming in it. Gabriel strips at record speed, throwing his clothes about and jumping in with a loud splash. Sam and Dean are a little slower, Sam folds his clothes and sets them on a nearby rock.

Castiel has seen Dean shirtless before, he's even seen him pantsless, but he's never seen him without boxers or _something_. But there he is, pulling his pants and boxers down his thighs, pale butt sticking right out in the open, and Castiel can't look away. Wow, that's a nice butt. Very round.

And then he's turning around and Castiel looks away, but not quite quick enough to not see what's hanging in between his legs.

“You comin', Cas?” Dean asks.

Castiel, almost certain he's only a few shades away from puce by now, shakes his head.

“I- I don't think so. It doesn't really seem very safe a- and anyway, I don't really want to... strip.”

“Dude, don't think about it too much.” Sam tells him, standing there proudly with his hands on his hips. “It's nothing we haven’t seen before. We've all got the same parts.”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean pleads. “It won't be any fun without you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, seriously doubting that, but he gives in. He takes his clothes off slowly, setting them carefully out of reach of any water. Then he follows Dean and Sam into the lake.

Despite the muddy bottom, and his genuine fear of fish nibbling at his dick, Castiel doesn't hate it. When he voices his fear to the group, Dean just about squeals. “I don't want fish all over my dick!” He yelps. “I didn't even think about fish!”

“Would that be bestiality?” Sam wonders.  
“It's inter-species erotica, fucko!” Says Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap14)


	15. The Mellowest Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and i'm very sorry. I had more planned but then I got the flue and I've been too tired to write for the last couple days. 
> 
> **Warning for this chapter:**  
>  \- recreational drug use  
> I don't go into a lot of detail, and nothing weird happens, but if it bothers you let me know.

After they finish swimming, the gang collapses on the shore. Castiel puts his boxers on, although he's the only one who does, and lays on his back next to Sam. Moments later, Gabriel flops down on his other side. He yawns and stretches, kicking his feet before finally going limp.

“That's the fuckin' stuff.” Gabriel groans.

“Please don't make that noise.” Castiel appeals.

“Why not?”

“How about because you're naked?”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Castiel closes his eyes and tries to forget that there are naked people all around him. He can feel every blade of grass under his bare shoulders, and the sun is warm on his skin.

Next to him, Gabriel sits up. “Okay,” He says. “I got some stuff the other day.”

“What stuff?” Asks Sam.

Castiel still has his eyes shut, but he can hear Gabriel scoot over to his pile of clothes and start rummaging around in his pants pockets.

Then Sam says, “What, a... weird cigarette?”

Castiel opens his eyes just as Dean starts laughing. “Oh, you sweet, sweet child.” He sits up too, and Castiel's eyes are drawn to the smooth lines of his back. “That's not a cigarette.”

“Behold!” Gabriel declares, holding the joint aloft. “The ganja!”

“Drugs?!” Sam yelps, sitting up quickly. “Gabriel, no!”

“It's just weed, kid. Relax.” Gabriel soothes. “It's barely a drug.”

“What if we hallucinate?” Sam whispers urgently. “And think we can, like, breathe underwater and then we drown.”

“Dude, no. This is, like, the mellowest shit you will ever smoke. Speaking of, though, I could really go for some shrooms.”

“Man, you're gonna give him a heart attack.” Dean says, still chuckling.

Castiel is now the only one still laying down, and he watches as Sam gapes at his brother. “Are you okay with this? _How_ are you okay with this?”

Dean rubs his palm over his face, looking sheepish. “Look, man, I’m not saying you should go out and start smokin' crack, okay? It's weed. A little here and there isn't gonna hurt you.”

Sam quiets, but he looks like he feels a little betrayed. “Do... do you get high?” He asks his brother.

Castiel looks away. This doesn't feel like something he should be present for, this feels like a very personal conversation between family, and he's feeling extremely awkward.

“I mean, it's been a while.” Dean explains. “I don't really have a lot of time for this type of shit anymore, and they drug test at work, you know? But I’ve been known to. Back in the day.”

“I can't believe this! I feel like my whole life is a lie!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Dean groans. “Sam, you're nineteen. Legally you're an adult. Calm your tits.”

Sam huffs and draws his knees up close to his chest. He rests his chin atop them.

“You don't have to smoke any.” Dean continues. “You can go back to camp.”

“Cas probably doesn't want to do this either. Do you, Cas?”

Castiel looks up at the group of them, from one to the other, to the other. He doesn't want to upset Sam, who is looking despondent, but he _is_ interested. Yeah, okay? He's interested. These past few months since he died he's tried a lot of new things. He's still going slow with a lot of it, but he wants to go faster. He wants to try more, to do more. Some days he can't even ride in a car without descending into a panic, but he's going to do this, goddammit.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks at the others. As much as he loves Sam, he needs this. “I want to try it.” He says. “Sorry, Sam.”

“I- you- ugh!” Sam scowls. “Whatever.”

“Are you going to stay?” Dean asks, when Sam doesn't get up.

“Of course i'm going to stay!” Sam rolls his eyes. “I don't want you guys getting hurt.”

“Alright whatever who cares?!” Gabriel shouts. “Let's smoke this bitch!”

So Castiel sits up and Dean and Gabriel scoot in closer. “Uh, could you guys put pants on?” Castiel requests.

Gabriel and Dean put their boxers on and they huddle up while Sam glowers from a few feet away. Gabriel produces a lighter, from who knows where, and takes the first hit. Eventually, the joint finds its way to Castiel, who takes it gingerly.

“I, uh, how do I-” He starts to ask. Dean is on it, crowding in so close to Castiel that their thighs are presses against each other, reaching out to guide the thing to his friend's lips.

“Just breathe it in.” He instructs gently. “Yeah, like that, there you go. Hold it in,”

Castiel tries, but then suddenly he's coughing hard, and it's very difficult to breathe.

“You killed him!” Cries Sam, but after a few moments Castiel is alright again.

“I'm fine, Sam.” He assures his friend, eyes watering.

They pass the joint around between the three of them, and it's an odd little ritual, but it feels nice. It makes Castiel feel close to the other men, like he's really a part of things. They want him here.

Sam keeps letting out offended little huffs until Dean gets annoyed and says, “You wanna come over here and smoke with us?”

There's a long, thoughtful silence, and then a small voice says, “I mean... kind of. Just- just a little. I mean-”

“Just get over here!” Gabriel waves him over.

Sam comes over and joins the circle. He's still frowning and looking sheepish, twiddling his thumbs. Gabriel gives him the joint and claps him on the shoulder. “Go get 'em, champ.”

 

Everything is... fuzzy. Not visually. Mentally. Sort of. Things are just... softer. Castiel can't quite find it in him to worry about anything at all. Well, he does worry, but the worries don't seem so important. They don't scare him. He's not scared. The anxiety that has plagued him almost constantly since he started grade school is all but gone. And he's talking. A lot. About his feelings. He can't stop.

“And so, it's like...” Castiel leans his head back and sighs. “Sometimes I just don't feel like there's anyone out there for me, you now?”

Next to him, leaning back on his elbows to mirror Castiel's own pose, Dean grins big. His eyes are a little hooded, like he's slightly sleepy. Somewhere close by, Gabriel and Sam are bickering about something, most likely Sam's mounting paranoia.

“There's someone there for you, man. I promise.”

“But how do you know that? Do you believe in soul mates? I mean, is there just one person for every other person? Are there multiple people? What if you never meet your soul mate?”

Dean laughs. “You're funny. You know that?”

“I'm serious!”

Dean shakes his head. “I don't know. I don't think I believe in soul mates.”

“You don't _think_ you do?”

“Nah, I don't.”

“You're so cynical.”

“I'm not cynical.” Dean replies, still smiling.

“You are so.”

“Nope.” Dean reaches over and touches his fingers to Castiel's wrist. “I just think it's dumb to think that there's just one person for you, ready made, instead of getting to know someone and falling in love with them on your own, you know? Like, why would I want fate picking somebody out for me when I can do it myself?”

“I'm... not sure if that made sense or not.” Castiel laughs.

“It made total sense.” Dean's fingers are dragging up Castiel's arm, toward his elbow. “It's about free will, makes it better.”

“Well, the thing is, how am I even gonna know? How am I ever even going to find out if there's soul mates or- or not soul mates? Or whatever. Nobody likes me.”

“What the- what are you talking about? People love you!”

“What I mean is, nobody _likes_ me.”

“You don't know that.”

“I have _never_ been flirted with. Ever.” Castiel admits.

“I bet you have and you just didn't notice.”

“I think I’d notice if I was being flirted with.”

“Dude.” Dean's hand cups Castiel's elbow. “You are literally the most oblivious person I’ve ever met. You would definitely not notice.”

“I so would.”

Dean shakes his head. “Cas, I promise you that you _have_ been flirted with.”

“What? That's ridiculous, you can't promise that.”

“I absolutely can.”

“How?”

Dean rolls his eyes, captures his bottom lip between his teeth. “Because I’ve done it, dumbass! _I_ have flirted with you! You remember the first day we talked? Yeah? I was flirting with you then. Like two minutes into that conversation.”

“What?” Castiel yelps. “No way!”

“Yes way.”

“No! What? Why would you do that?”

Dean throws back his head and lets out a bark of laughter. “'Cause I thought you were cute, fucker!” He slaps Castiel on the stomach.

“You did?” Castiel asks, baffled.

“Yeah,” Dean chews on his bottom lip in a way that almost seems... nervous.

Why would Dean be nervous? Castiel is the one who should be nervous here, a beautiful man just called him cute. Oddly, he's not nervous. Well, maybe just a little, but the feeling is sort of far away, like a voice in the very back of his mind.

“Still,” Castiel moves on. He's having a bit of trouble following the thread of their conversation. “Nobody has ever asked me out. I don't know that many people. I just don't think it's going to happen, is my point.”

“Somebody'll ask you out.” Dean promises.

Castiel rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Okay.” He says dubiously.

“No, they will.” Dean looks away, rubs the back of his hand over his mouth, and sniffs. “In fact, uh, I will.”

“Huh?”

“I'll, uh, i'll take you out. On a date.”

“ _You_ will?”

“Yep.” Dean looks away and Castiel watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows.

“ _You_?”

“Okay,” Dean lets out a dry laugh and starts to sit up. “Just, um, forget I said anything, okay? I shouldn't have-”

“Wait!” Castiel grabs hold of Dean's wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I was just going to see if I could find, like, some sort of pit of humiliation to wallow in.”

“Well don't _leave_! I was thinking!”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute, okay?”

“Oh,” Dean settles back down, looking confused. “Okay.”

Castiel doesn't take his hand off of Dean's wrist as he thinks. Does he want to go out with Dean? Yes. Is it a good idea? … He's not so sure. He doesn't think Dean would ever hurt him purposely, but if this is a pity date, well, that sucks. It's not like he's just going to _ask_ though. Sure, it would simplify things, but he really doesn't want to. It all boils down to whether or not it's worth it. Whether or not _Dean_ is worth it.

“Alright.” Castiel says after a moment. “You can take me out.”

Dean looks surprised. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows have migrated up his forehead. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, uh,” He clears his throat. “Good. Great! I, uh- next time we stop at a town, i'll take you someplace. Maybe we could see a movie. Or- or we could get food. You like food, right?” Dean rambles. “Ha, of course you like food. That works. Dinner and a movie, right? That's a thing. Do you- uh, like... movies?”

“You know I like movies.” Castiel reminds him. He feels a thrill of happiness, and amusement at Dean's awkwardness but, oddly enough, he's still not nervous. He has an idea that it might have something to do with the drugs buzzing through his system, but he can't seem to make himself care.

“'Course you like movies.” Dean slaps himself on the forehead. “Duh. Yeah. Anyway, though, that sound good to you? 'Cause we can do something else-”

“It sounds good, Dean.” Castiel tells him, unable to help the glow of happiness in his belly or the smile beginning to grow on his lips. “I'm already looking forward to it.”

“Heh, cool. It's a date then.” Dean grins at him and then licks his lips nervously.

“It's a date.” Castiel repeats, practically unable to believe the words. He has a date. His first date. And with Dean, even. Wow.

 


	16. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are probably a bunch of terrible errors in here. Sorry :p

Aurora is a nice city, Castiel is sure. Not that he's really been paying much attention. He's preoccupied, to say the least.

It's just that now he knows that Dean thinks he's cute, and he has to think about how Dean asked him out. He's not even sure if their date still stands, as Dean hasn't mentioned it since. So he's been trying to figure that out, without seeming weird, but of course he's being weird. He can't help but glance over at Dean, and glance over at him, and glance over at him again. He's not sure if any of the others have noticed him staring, but he can't stop himself.

And now that he's really, really letting himself look... well, distraction doesn't quite cover Dean. His arms are... wow, his arms are nice. Sitting there in the driver's seat, with the wind ruffling his dirty blond hair, arms stretched out over the wheel, Dean looks like something out of a magazine. And not the kind one would find on their grandmother's coffee table.

He looks away quickly, staring determinedly out the window and picking at the plastic of the door handle.

The four of them spend the day seeing the sights. They go shopping at a mall, which takes up a lot of the day, and then to the Aurora History Museum at the request of Sam and Castiel.

As the sun begins to set, they find a Quality Inn and bunker down, but before they can get too comfortable, Dean catches Castiel's eye and motions for him to follow as he slips out the door. Castiel follows him, and finds the man sitting on the concrete stoop just outside. Castiel sits down beside him, crossing his arms over his knees and looking ahead into the sunset.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hi.” Dean takes a breath. “Okay, so. About yesterday.”

Castiel looks down at his hands, worried about what he's going to hear next. “What about yesterday?”

“You um, have any movies you want to see?”

“Oh!" Castiel's heart leaps, but he struggles to keep his feelings under wraps. "Uh, there was that, um, that new X-Men movie. Looked kinda good.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you have kind of a _thing_ for super dudes, don't you?”

Castiel looks away from Dean's teasing grin, feeling the flush grow in his cheeks. “I do not have a _thing._ ”

“You _so_ do. Is it the super powers that do it for you, or do you just like anybody who could pick you up and hold you against a wall?”

“Dean!”

“What?” Dean laughs.

“That- I- you are the worst!”

Dean suppress his smile, but fails miserably, and his eyes are alight with mischievousness. “Sorry.”

“Oh you are not.” Castiel accuses.

“I just like it when you make that face.”

“What face?”

“That one! The one you're making right now!”

“This is my only face!”

Dean cackles, and Castiel glares at him.

“Are we seeing a movie or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. You wanna eat before or after?”

“Oh, um, I don't know. Isn't it kind of traditional to eat first?” Castiel asks.

Dean shrugs and pulls out his phone to start looking up movie times. “I guess so, but then you're rushing to eat, you know? And you have to pee halfway through the movie.”

“Well it sounds like you want to do the movie first.”

“I mean, if you don't care. It's up to you, though.”

“That's fine with me.” Castiel smiles at him.

“Okay, well there's a 6:45 showing and an 8:45.”

“How about the 6:45? Then we have plenty of time to eat afterward.”

“Alright, but we have to hurry, 'cause that's in like 25 minutes.”

“Okay!” Castiel agrees, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up into a standing position. “I'm gonna get dressed!” He runs quickly inside to rifle through his bag until he finds the shirt he wants. It's a blue button-down, with white buttons and pink flowers, so tiny that they almost look like little spots. Anyway, Gabriel says it makes his eyes pop.

Dean comes back into the room and starts going through his own bag as Castiel retreats into the bathroom to change his shirt. And, alright, it doesn't make much sense for him to suddenly require modesty from this group of men who have all seen him naked, but he's not always a logical individual.

He strips off his t-shirt, watching his skin as it turns to gooseflesh in the cool air. The button-down is a little tight, around the wrists and his hips, where he's gained a little weight since the last time he wore it. It's not so bad though, still looks pretty nice, and once he smooths his hair out a little he finds himself grinning into the mirror. He looks pretty damn good.

He comes out of the bathroom smoothing his shirt down over his belly, to find Dean waiting for him. He's sitting on the edge of one of the room's two queen sized beds, staring down at his hands, jiggling his foot nervously. He's wearing a plain black t-shirt that stretches tight across his chest and around his arms, but in his case it's because of muscle. He looks so good that Castiel almost turns around and goes back into the bathroom to hide.

Dean looks up when Castiel steps out, and a smile splits his face. “Well, don't you look nice.”

“Oh, um. Thanks.” Castiel stammers.

Gabriel and Sam, who are laying on the other bed, heads at the foot, watching television, both look up.

“You do look nice!” Sam agrees.

“Yeah,” Gabriel says, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He raises himself up on his elbows. “ _Why_ do you look nice?” Then he looks at Dean, finally noticing his clean shirt and freshly combed hair. “And you! What the hell is going on here?”

“Well, um-” Says Castiel.

“Okay, so-” Dean says, at the same moment.

They both stop and look at each other, Castiel shrugs, and Dean clears his throat.

“We're, uh, going to a movie.” Dean tells them.

“Oh, cool!” Sam sits up. “I'll get my shoes.”

“No, um. Just- just me and Cas are going.”

“Wow. Okay, rude.” Gabriel says, frowning.

“No, it's not like-”

“We're going on a date.” Castiel steps forward to clear the matter up.

There's a long moment of silence and then Sam crows, “I knew it! I knew you guys were secretly dating, I knew it! Didn't I tell you!” He jabs Gabriel in the side. “You owe me five bucks!”

“Okay, hold the fucking phone, okay? We're not dating.” Dean tells him.

“You're not?” Sam looks crestfallen.

“It's... for the list.” Castiel explains. “I've never been on a date, so Dean is taking me.”

“Dinner and a movie.” Says Dean. “But, uh, backward.”

“Aw, man.” Sam pouts. “You guys suck.”

“That _is_ disappointing _._ ” Gabriel agrees. “We don't get to see a move _and_ there's no secret drama? Snoozeville.”

“Oh my god. Okay. We're going. Come on, Cas.”

Castiel waves to a sulking Sam and Gabriel as Dean shepherds him out the door and to the car.

“Jesus Christ, those guys.” Dean mutters once they're safe in the car.

“They're the worst.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“I can't believe they were taking bets on us.” Castiel frowns.

“Can't you? This is Sam and Gabe.”

“Fair enough.”

 

-o-

 

The theater in Aurora that they end up at is smaller than most. It's quieter too. Castiel can hear the soft crunch of stale popcorn under his shoes as they walk to the concession stand. Dean buys them a large popcorn and a drink to share, as well as paying for their tickets.

“Why are you paying for everything?” Castiel asks.

“I asked you out, didn't I?” Dean replies, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth as they walk to screen 5. “I figure the asker pays for the stuff, unless both parties agree otherwise.”

“You've got it all figured out, huh?”

“It's nice to have guidelines for these things. It, uh, helps with the nerves, you know?”

“Are you nervous?”

Dean smiles. “I'm always a little nervous on dates with cute boys.”

Castiel looks down at his hands, blushing, and almost runs into the the wall. “You really think I’m cute?” He asks.

The reach their door and Dean holds it open for him. “Yeah,” He says quietly. “I think you're cute.”

They make their way down through mostly empty seats until they find a row that suits them, and sit down side-by-side. Dean holds the popcorn in his lap and hands the drink to Castiel, but leaves the arm rest in-between them up so that he can scoot close and slip his arm around Castiel's shoulder.

“I thought you were supposed to be subtle.” Castiel remarks. “Like, pretend that you're yawning or something?”

“Fuck that.” Dean says, grinning down at him. “You know what I’m about.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I suppose I do.” He says, but he's actually very pleased with this situation. He's up against Dean's side, which is nice and warm. He smells of cologne, and Castiel could probably rest his head on his shoulder if he wanted to.

It's a little hard to concentrate with Dean so close, smelling wonderful and offering him handfuls of popcorn. Their hands brush together in the bag, and they're both content to let the touch linger.

Despite this, Castiel takes pains to pay attention to the movie, because it really is very good and Dean paid money for their tickets.

At the end of it, Dean stretches and pulls his arm away, and Castiel feels the loss like the limb was his own. He misses the weight of it, and the warmth of Dean at his side. He's quiet as exit the theater and walk to the car.

They drive along a busy road near the theater, the lights are bright in the dusk, and Castiel has to squint to see the business signs.

“What do you feel like? Italian?” Dean asks. “Chinese? Mexican? Good ol' American?”

“Oh, um, I don't know. You have a preference?”

“I was kinda thinkin' Italian. I saw a place back there that looked kinda nice.”

“That little one?”

“Yeah.”

“Looked kinda... swanky, didn't it?”

“Yeah, a little.” Dean glances over at him.

“I mean, can we afford-”

“Don't worry about it man. I'm gonna take you on the best damn date of your life.”

“Well it's the only date of my life so...”

“Shut up, man. It's gonna be great.”

Castiel rolls his eyes as they pull into the little Italian place. It's small and dark, with a fancy sign the says “La Casa Felci” in curling cursive. Dean holds the door of the building open for Castiel, and they're met with dim lights, soft jazz, and the smell of authentic Italian cooking.

“Two?” Asks the host, and Dean nods. She leads them through the restaurant, it's full of people, but somehow it's not loud. There's the hum of voices, yes, and the constant clink of silverware on glass plates, but it's not the din that would usually send Castiel into an anxious panic. The host takes them to a little table in a dimly lit corner, with just two chairs that have tall, arched backs.

Castiel and Dean settle in, order a sweet tea and a coke, respectively, and peruse the menu. Castiel's nerves come back in full as he looks over the food.

“This is so expensive.” He whispers.

“Don't worry about it man. You see anything that looks good?”

Castiel sighs, frowning. “Well, the Spinach Tomato Tortellini looks good but- shit, it's _fifteen dollars_!” He hisses.

“Don't look at the prices, man!” Dean admonishes.

“But-”

Their waitress slides up beside the table, smiling happily. “You boys ready to order?” She asks.

“I- I don't know.” Castiel says, eyeing the food prices anxiously, until Dean reaches over and snatches the menu from his hands.

“He'll have the Spinach Tomato Tortellini.” Dean says, before Castiel can work himself into a panic. “I'll have the Zuppa Toscana, and we'll both have minestrone as an appetizer.” He hands both of their menus to the waitress.

“I'll have the minestrone right out.” She says, before slipping away.

“Oh my god this is so expensive.” Castiel blurts, clasping his shaking hands together on the table.

“Hey, hey.” Dean says softly, reaching across the table and setting his hands over Castiel's. “I promise you, it's not a big deal.”

“You don't have this kind of money. You've got bills and Sam's college and-”

“And I have a little extra money for fun. This is fun.”

Castiel's shoulders droop, he sighs heavily. “Until I start freaking out. I'm sorry, I'm ruining this. It's supposed to be nice and I'm just being weird.”

Dean smiles and gives Castiel's hands a squeeze. “It's okay, dude. It's alright to be nervous. C'mon now, deep breaths.”

Castiel closes his eyes and takes a breath, and another.

“I got you, man.” Dean says. “It's okay.”

Castiel takes one more deep breath, and wills himself to relax. “Okay.” He nods. “I'm okay.”

“You're okay.”

“Thank you for this.” Castiel tells him. “I- this really... it means a lot to me.”

Dean grins. “Well good, because this is just _such_ a hardship for me. Taking a cute boy out on a date, _god_ it's killing me.”

Castiel laughs, pulling his hands away. “You're such a dick.”

“Hey, I just complimented you.”

“And yet...”

Dean shakes his head, but he's still smiling. “Screw you, man. Have I not been an absolute gentleman?”

“Well you did open the door for me earlier.”

“Damn right, I did.”

And so it goes. They banter, and they talk about the movie, and the trip, and the food, and their families. Dean orders them desert, and they talk more, until their waitress finally tells them that the restaurant is closing and they'll need to leave. Castiel is full and sleepy, giddy from having such a good time.

When they get back to the motel, they walk slowly up to the door. Dean turns to Castiel before he can reach for the handle, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall.

“So, um,” He says, looking down. “Traditionally, this would be where I might, uh, kiss you,”

Even in the darkness, Castiel can see the red blooming on Dean's cheeks. It stirs something in him, a deep, heavy want.

He takes a deep breath and musters his courage. “You can.” He says, voice lifting hopefully. “If you want.”

Dean looks up at him, he looks a little surprised, but not much. “I... can?”

Castiel nods quickly, unconsciously taking a step closer.

Dean takes this agreeance and runs with it, crowding close faster than Castiel thought he would, bringing his hand up to cup his friend's jaw. He's leaning in close when something dawns on him and he pulls back.

“Wait,” He says. “I- I don't want to take your first kiss, man.”

“It's okay.” Castiel breathes quickly.

“Are you sure? You don't mind?” Dean asks the question, but his eyes are latched onto Castiel's lips.

“I don't mind.”

Dean nods slowly, and leans in. His breath puffs against Castiel's lips, and then they're meeting. Dean's lips are soft, and warm, and his hand on Castiel's face is steadying.

Castiel presses into the kiss, moving his lips against Dean's as best he can. He doesn't really know what he's doing, but he knows that it feels good. Dean seems delighted by Castiel's enthusiasm, deepening the kiss, wrapping his unoccupied arm around Castiel's middle.

Castiel is overwhelmed by a feeling of lightness, like he's floating. He hums happily, hands coming up of their own accord to settle on Dean's hips. There's a touch of tongue on Castiel's bottom lip, but Dean doesn't press, and their kisses stay surprisingly chaste despite the desire buzzing in Castiel's veins.

Dean pulls back to take a breath, but then he's leaning in again, kissing Castiel again and again until he feels like he's going to explode. When Dean pulls back once more he's flushed and breathing heavily, he's staring at Castiel with an undecipherable look, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

“We should, um...” He trails off.

“Yeah.” Castiel breathes, letting his hands drop from Dean's hips. “Maybe we should go in.”

Dean nods, takes a step back, clears his throat. “This was, uh, it was … thanks for coming out with me.”

“I had a good time.” Castiel tells him breathlessly. “I had a really good time.”

Dean smiles at him, leans forward to give him one last quick peck on the lips, and turns to open the motel door.

Inside they find Sam and Gabriel sprawled out on the floor between the two beds in their pajamas, television on, junk food spread out in front of them.

“Where the fuck have you nerds been?” Gabriel shouts. “There's a marathon of Back To The Future on, we've watched it three times already, you in?”

“I'm in!” Dean says, leaping onto one of the beds.

Castiel shrugs. “Me too, I guess. I've never seen it.”

He's met with silence, three pairs of bewildered eyes, and then a chorus of incredulous yelling. He steals a kit kat bar from in front of Gabriel and goes to sit on the bed unoccupied by Dean. They share a smile over the heads of the other boys, and Castiel settles in for a long night.

All night long, his skin doesn't stop buzzing with the memory of Dean's touch, he finds himself running a finger absentmindedly along his lips, feeling the ghost of Dean's against them. He can't get it out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap16)


	17. Princess Leia and a Twenty-Sided Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's not a lot of feelings in this chapter, but I promise to get back to it next week. 
> 
> Also, next week i'll be updating on Tuesday night, because that's when my day off is next week.

The rest of the trip flies by quickly; they drive, they see the sights, they camp. It's a lot of fun, but Castiel finds himself at least a little on edge most of the time. He contributes this to the change in his friendship with Dean.

Ever since the date, ever since the kiss, things have been... different. Not too much, a bystander wouldn't notice it. In fact, neither Sam or Gabriel seem to have noticed it. It's there though, he's sure of it. The way Dean smiles at him seems slightly different now, their touches linger, and when they're alone together there's this unmistakable energy. It's like a low electrical current, and Castiel is just waiting to get shocked.

He makes it through mostly in one piece, and they arrive home just as the wind begins to change. Castiel can feel the fall coming, cooling his bones with a swift wind. He's excited for it, anticipation curling in his gut as the days go by.

 

-o-

 

A surprising new fixture in Castiel's life is one Miss Charlie Bradbury. She's been coming to movie nights for a few weeks now and Castiel has found that he genuinely enjoys her company. He's gotten over the little wave of jealousy that he'd felt back when she'd shown up for the first time, already close friends with Dean, and now he's confidant that he can call her a friend as well.

She's been helping him with his list too. Well, she's trying anyway. Her ideas have become so increasingly ridiculous that Castiel has recently begun rejecting them outright, barely listening to what she's actually saying.

“You're not listening to me at all, are you?” Charlie asks, mouth full of burger.

Castiel looks at her over the booth's worn tabletop. He hadn't been listening, he'd been trying to catch the waiter's eye, becuase his tea glass is empty and that's just very sad.

“I was listening.” He lies.

“What did I say?” Charlie leans forward over the table, crossing his arms over her chest.

“... that I wasn't listening?”

“You asshole.”

“I'm out of tea, Charlie! How do you expect me to concentrate?”

“Hey, barkeep!” Charlie shouts to the waiter, who glares at her. “Some more sweet tea for my friend the dickhead, please!”

The waiter rolls his eyes, but heads to the kitchen anyway.

“There, it's taken care of.” Charlie announces. “Will you listen to me now?”

Castiel sighs longsufferingly. “Yes, alright.”

“You want a tattoo, right?”

Castiel nods.

“You know what you want?”

He nods again. He has, in fact, been thinking about it a lot. At first, it was just something to put on the list, but the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. He actually really wants one now.

“Well I know a girl- a tattoo artist. She's really good. Anyway I thought whenever you feel like getting one, I could go too. I've been wanting another one.”

“You have a tattoo?” Castiel asks curiously. He's never seen seen a tattoo on Charlie.

She laughs. “Yeah. It's, uh, kinda silly, but,” She shrugs and pulls up her right sleeve. There, on her upper arm, is an intricately done tattoo featuring a woman straddling a twenty sided die. As he looks closer, he realizes that the woman bears a striking resemblance to-

“Is that Princess Leia?”

“Indeed it is, my young Padawan. Got it a couple years ago.”

“I can't _believe_ you keep that covered up.” Castiel says dryly.

“Hey, don't judge me. It was Comic-Con.”

“Did your friend do that one?”

“No,” Charlie tells him. “But i've seen a lot of her work and she's super good. And I can vouch for the cleanliness of her shop, which is important.”

Their waiter comes back then, clunking a new glass of tea down on the ugly Formica.

“Thanks,” Charlie beams at him. “You're a doll.”

“Where's her shop at?” Castiel wonders.

“Hobalt Ave.” She says, turning her attention back to him as their surly waiter walks away. “Over by the McDonald's.”

“I know the place.” Castiel says thoughtfully. “But i've never noticed a tattoo parlor over there.”

Charlie waves off his concern. “You wouldn't have. It's down an alley.”

“An _alley_?!”

“Yeah. I promise it's nice though.”

“You promise that a shop _in an alley next to McDonald's_ is nice?” He asks incredulously.

“Yes! In fact, we're going there today.”  
“What?”

“Yep. Just because you're being a suspicious butthead. We're going there after we eat.”

“You can't force me to go, Charlie.”

“Um, who drove? I can't remember.” She feigns innocence.

Castiel sighs. She's right, she's his ride, she can basically take him wherever she wants to go. Despite the fact that he's become much more comfortable with cars, he still can't bring himself to drive one.

“Fine.” He says.

“Yay!” Charlie squeals. “You're going to love it!”

 

 

Despite his reservations, the shop is actually very nice. The building looks like it was once someone's house, before it was gutted and renovated. It still has an empty fireplace in the waiting room though, and big bay windows that look out over the street. Above the front door is a hand painted sign that reads “Exterior Expressions”.

When they come into the shop, it's bright and airy, the light, earthy colors put Castiel at ease. There's a long counter just past the waiting room, and a girl is sitting behind it, reading a magazine. She looks up as the chime above the door announces their entrance, wavy blond hair cascading over her shoulder.

“Hi!” She greet them cheerfully, closing her magazine.

“Hey, Jess.” Charlie addresses her. “Is Gilda in?”

“She's on lunch.” The girl tells her. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I just wanted to show Cas the shop.” Charlie says, nodding toward him. “But... since I'm here...” She bites her lip. “You think Gilda would have time to do a piece for me today?”

Jess frowns thoughtfully, and turns in her chair to face the computer that sits to her left on the counter. As she clicks around on the screen, Castiel takes a moment to look at her closer.

She's striking. Her arms are covered with bright tattoos, as are her shoulders, and her chest. Her bubblegum pink tank-top clashes with some of them in a way that should make Castiel wince, but really doesn't. He's not attracted to her sexually, but he can see that she's beautiful. Her septum is pierced, and her bottom lip, her eyes are big and blue, her nose is crooked.

“She's got an appointment in ten, but it's just a little wrist tattoo. If you're willing to wait about forty-five minutes she can fit you in.”

“Yes!” Charlie pumps her fist. “Awesome! What about you, Cas? You want to get one while we're here?”

Castiel looks at Jess, a little panicked. “I- I don't want to inconvenience anybody.”

“Psh,” Jess says, waving him off. “Don't worry about it, we've got other artists. Kali and Benny are both here today too.”

“Well... I...” He looks at Charlie, who nods excitedly, and then to Jess. He eyes her tattoos. “I mean- do they hurt?”

“Some do, some don't.” Jess tells him honestly. “If you get one over a bone it's definitely going to hurt, but mostly they're fine.”

“Well...” He takes a deep breath and makes a decision. “Okay. Yeah, I'll do it.”

“Great!” Says Jess, tapping at the computer keyboard. “I'll put you in for Benny, is that okay?”

“Sounds fine to me.”

“It'll probably be about a half-hour.” She pulls out two clip-boards with papers on them from under the counter and hands them to Charlie and Castiel. “Fill these out for me, please.”

Castiel and Charlie take their clipboards into the waiting room to fill them out, and Castiel is overcome by nerves. He's determined not to back out though, so he does the only thing he can think of; he calls Gabriel.

 

Despite the fact that he'd only called Gabriel for a little reassurance, his cousin is beside himself with excitement, and shows up at the shop himself about fifteen minutes after Castiel hangs up, with Sam and Dean in tow.

“What- why are you guys all here?” Castiel asks, bewildered.

Dean shrugs. “Boredom.” He says.

The whole group follows Charlie and Castiel as they go to give Jess their clipboards back. Gabriel goes because he's nosy and excited, Dean goes because he's bored, and Sam goes because everyone else is going and he doesn't want to be left by himself.

“Whoa.” Jess leans back as the group descends upon the counter. “Do you guys... all want tattoos?”

“Yes!” Gabriel says excitedly, seemingly making a split-second decision.

“Um...” Says Jess.

“I can take somebody.” Says a voice from one of the many doors in the large open space behind the counter. Castiel turns to see a lovely, dark skinned woman leaning out of a doorway. Her shiny black hair is in a long, think braid down her back.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” Gabriel says, practically drooling. “ _Please_ take me.”

“He's all yours, Kali!” Jess says brightly.

Kali, undoubtedly regretting her decision now, mutters under her breath. “ _Brahma_ , help me.” And motions for Gabriel to follow her into the room. He goes eagerly, and Castiel can practically _see_ the little cartoon hearts in his eyes.

“How about you?” Jess asks Sam, who has been staring at her while she wasn't looking.

Sam's eyes widen. “Um.” He says, obviously not expecting to be addressed. “I- I, uh.” His face is steadily turning a dark shade of pink, and Castiel reflects that it's almost funny when it's happening to someone else.

“Do you want a tattoo?” Dean asks, curiously.

“I don't know!” Sam whispers, panicked.

“No pressure.” Jess laughs. “But...” She grins playfully. “You'd look good with one. Or five.”

Sam is gaping at her, apparently unable to get any more words past his lips.

“Maybe next time.” Dean says, taking pitty on his brother. “He'll think about it.”

“I'll think about it.” Sam squeaks.

About that time, the mysterious Gilda makes a quick appearance, and it becomes very clear that Charlie isn't just interested in her tattoos.

“Everyone is a drooling idiot.” He sighs. 

“Except us.” Says Dean. “We're not drooling idiots.”

Charlie snorts. Castiel and Dean both turn to look at her, but she's suddenly very interested in the wallpaper.

 

 

It doesn't hurt as much as Castiel thought it would. It's closer to a slight burn than anything else. His tattoo artist - Benny – is going slowly and methodically, humming softly to himself as he works.

From the doorway, Dean snorts. “That's such a fuckin' girly tattoo, man. I can't believe you're getting _flowers_.”

Castiel scowls at him. “There's nothing wrong with flowers. And if you don't have anything nice to say, why don't you go bother someone else?”

Dean looks immediately contrite. He casts his eyes downward with a muttered, “Sorry.” and stays put.

Castiel looks down to watch as Benny works on the tattoo gracing his belly. It's mostly lavender and chamomile, sprayed out on the left side of his lower stomach, just above his hip. Sprigs of other flowers weave throughout, a small honeybee flits among them, and one solitary tendril of ivy curls around his belly button. The colors are soft, the details crisp. Castiel doesn't know a lot about tattoos, but he's sure that Benny does amazing work.

“'s true.” The man says, startling Castiel. Since he's been working, Benny has only spoken a handful of times, mostly asking questions. “Nothin' wrong with flowers. And nothin' wrong with girly.”

“Thank you.” Castiel says, vindicated. He looks at Dean and gives him a hard look.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it. Don't gang up on me, okay? I'm fragile.”

“You are _not_.” Castiel huffs.

Dean just grins and shrugs.

“I can't believe you left Sam out there by himself.” Castiel says, changing the subject abruptly.

“He'll be okay.” Dean assures him. “He's talking to Jess.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“He's going to have a heart attack. I feel like you might actually be able to get some sort of brain damage from blushing that much.”

Dean laughs and looks back over his shoulder to the counter, where Sam is making stuttered, terrified conversation with the blond girl.

“He's got a _crush_.” He says, malicious in that way only older siblings can be. “I'm gonna torture him.”

“Oh, leave him alone.” Castiel tells Dean. “He's allowed to like people.”

“That is _so_ not the point, Cas.” Dean explains. “It's my _duty_ as an older brother to torture him. It's the rules.”

“Oh, is it?”

Dean nods solemnly. “And I know how you love rules.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I've come to realize that many rules should be broken.”

“Aw, come on, work with me here.”

“Don't tease Sam.” Castiel says seriously.

“Ugh, fine.” Dean grouches.

 

-o-

 

Sam, Dean, Castiel, Gabriel and Charlie are all squeezed into the Winchester's living room. Sam and Charlie are on the couch, Gabriel on the bean bag, Castiel and Dean on the floor. Dean's leg is pressed against Castiel's, and he doesn't move it. Sometimes his hand brushes Castiel's thigh, giving the boy chills. They're trying to decide on a movie and food, but Sam keeps texting and Gabriel just shouts out whatever comes to mind in the moment, and neither of them are any help.

“Who are you _texting_?” Gabriel whines.

“Nobody.” Says Sam, a blush quickly coloring his cheeks. He tries to hide his phone, but Dean and Gabriel both jump at him, Dean starts tickling his sides and Gabriel sneaks a peek at the phone screen.

“It's Jess!” He crows.

“No way!” Dean stops tickling. “You got her number?”

“Way to go, dude!” Charlie congratulates him, putting her hand up for a high-five, which Sam gives weakly.

“You guys suck.” He mutters.

“Aw, come on,” Says Gabriel. “We were just trying to help.”

“How were you trying to help?”

“Okay, you got me, I'm just nosy.”

Sam shoves Gabriel away, and the man flops down onto the floor, throwing his legs over Castiel's.

“So, what about you?” Castiel asks Gabriel. “Did you get that Kali girl's number?”

“Ah, almost.”

“How “almost”?” Dean wonders.

“Pretty close. She called me a creep and told me to fuck off. I think I got my foot in the door.”

Sam reaches down and pats him on the head. “Sure you did, bud.”

Gabriel pouts, ignoring him. “I'm _hungry_!” He groans.

Dean rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation that's been going on for about an hour. “Fine. We'll get pizza.”

“Only if it's Mariaga's” Sam insists, not looking up from his phone. “I like their crust.”

“But what about Chinese?” Charlie asks. “I thought we were getting China Palace.”

Dean throws his hands up and huffs, because this is exactly what happened the last twenty times they've been through this.

“You know what, we'll all get different things. Everybody just... figure out their own shit. I'm getting Mariaga's.”

They end up getting food from three different places, just like every other time this happens, and Castiel wonders why they even bother arguing about it every time.


	18. Consider a Threesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***No actual threesomes in this chapter***
> 
>  
> 
> Things that _are_ in this chapter:  
>  \- teenage-style angstyness  
> \- boys are idiots  
> \- i'm very sorry  
> \- i promise this will work out  
> \- this is like the only angsty chapter
> 
> There are probably some mistakes in this chapter, because my spellcheck is wigging out, currently.

Meg works in the shop a lot more nowadays. Gabriel has made it very clear that she's just an employee again – she enjoyed temporary manager-ship a bit too much for comfort – but she's still the best employee he has.

Castiel has struck up a cautious pseudo-friendship with Meg, wherein she makes him uncomfortable and he tries his best not to show it.

He's down in the shop, getting this week's receipts. Every time he bends over to get the things out out the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet next to the register, Meg tries to pinch his ass. He keeps swatting her hand away and she keeps cackling, and it's starting to frustrate him when they both hear the roar of an engine outside. They look up in time to see a massive motorcycle, ridden by a massive man, pull up in front of the shop followed closely by Dean's big black car.

The man gets off of the motorcycle slowly, takes off his helmet, and Castiel finds himself staring at Benny, the guy who did his tattoo.

Dean gets out of his car and strides over to Benny, and the two of them talk for a moment before Benny sets his helmet on the seat of his bike and the two of them turn toward the shop.

Castiel feels his heart-beat start to speed up as they approach, with everything from anticipation to apprehension. Because he may have a massive amount of warm, fuzzy feelings toward Dean, and Benny isn't exactly unattractive himself.

The bell above the door chimes happily as the two men walk through the door, Benny's eyes dart around the shop excitedly, while Dean's are drawn immediately to Castiel.

“Hey, Cas!” He greets, smiling. He leans his hip against the counter.

“Hi, Dean.” Castiel holds his papers close to his chest. It's an involuntary reaction.

“Jesus _christ_.” Meg mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Um, hey, Benny.” Castiel adds quickly.

Benny gives him a friendly little wave, still looking around curiously.

“So, um.” Dean licks his lips, and Castiel finds himself unable to stop himself watching. “I thought I remembered something about a motorcycle on your list, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Castiel frowns, uncertain. That huge machine out there looks... daunting, to say the least.

“Well me and Sam went back to Gilda's to get inked up and me and Benny got to talking-”

“You got a tattoo?” Castiel interrupts eagerly.

“Yeah, me and Sam got matching ones. I'll show you later.”

“I _bet_ he will.” Meg whispers. Castiel kicks her in the shin. Not too hard, but hopefully enough to stop the commentary.

“Anyway, Benny has a motorcycle.” Dean finishes, grinning like he's expecting a gold star.

Castiel shakes his head, unable to be nervous when Dean is looking at him like that. “And you're willing to let me ride it?”

Benny smiles at him, he has a nice smile. Behind his beard he has gleaming white teeth. It's like talking to a friendly bear. “That's what I'm here for, angel.” He rumbles, spinning his keys around his pointer finger. “To take you for a ride.”

There's something about the way he says it that snatches the words right from Castiel's lips. He looks at Meg, who's eyebrows are raised just about as high as they'll go.

“ _Oh my god_.” She mouths.

Castiel looks at Dean, who's frowning a little now, looking at Benny.

“What, now?” Castiel asks.

“Whenever you want.” Benny tells him.

“O-okay.” Castiel stutters. “I'll just- I'll be out in a minute.”

Benny nods and heads back out the door. Dean glances at Castiel, frown still marring his features, before following.

“Oh my god!” Meg says aloud, as soon as they're gone. “He _likes_ you!” She laughs and claps her hands together. “You have _two_ boys liking you at once. That ever happened before?”

Castiel shakes his head quickly. “No! What do I do?!”

Meg shrugs, grinning madly. “Do you like him?”

“I- I mean. He's not... _unattractive_.”

“He's _big_.” Meg growls. “He looks like a damn lumberjack.” She bites her lip.

“Ew.” Castiel comments.

“But?”

“Huh?”

“You were going to say, “But”.”

Castiel sighs. “But... I like Dean.”

“So what?” Meg says, shrugging again. “Has he made a move? Have you? Any moves at all between you two?”

“I mean... sort of?”

Meg squints.

“We went on a date.”

Meg sits up straight, suddenly much more interested.

“... but it was for the list.”

“You're kidding me.”

Castiel shakes his head. “And he kissed me. But...”

“But you don't know if it was real.” Meg says softly, frowning.

“Yeah.” Castiel admits. “I don't know if it even meant anything.”

“Have you asked?”

Castiel gives her a look. “I can't just ask.”

“You can so.” Meg counters.

“I'm not that kind of person and you know it.”

“Alright, fine!” Meg rolls her eyes. “You _asked_ for my advice, I don't know what you expected.” She sighs. “But look. I don't know Dean very well, or at all, really. But, generally speaking, one person probably won't ask another on a date unless they're at least a little interested. And, sweetheart, have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“I just don't know. It's all so complicated. I hate that it's so complicated.”

“It's only complicated because you let it be, babe.”

Castiel huffs. “I gotta go.” He leaves the papers on the counter. “I'll get these when I come back.”

“Consider a threesome!” Is Meg's parting advice.

Outside, Dean and Benny are still talking. Dean looks even more disgruntled now, his frown is deeper, forehead all scrunched up. When he sees Castiel, the look doesn't go away.

“You ready to go?” Benny asks as Castiel draws close.

“I guess so.” Castiel says uncertainly.

Benny rummages around in a compartment in the back of the massive vehicle for a moment, pulling out a second glossy black helmet. He hands it to Castiel, who slips it on over his head and hopes that he doesn't look too silly.

“Alright, come on then.” Benny rumbles, guiding Castiel gently with a hand on his elbow.

Castiel climbs nervously onto the motorcycle after Benny, sitting behind him and wrapping his arms around the man's massive frame.

The machine rumbles to life, and they ease away from the curb.

 

They drive around the surrounding area, over by the park and then down by the river. He doesn't have a single panic attack. It doesn't make any sense. If anything, he should be _more_ afraid on a motorcycle than he would be in a car, but he feels almost no fear at all. Maybe it's the fact that he's not caged in, he doesn't have metal surrounding him, trapping him. He's out in the open, with the wind in his hair. It makes him feel good, strangely enough. After a while they come back around to the shop, and Benny parks in front of the curb again. He climbs off the bike and then moves to help Castiel off too, big hands steady on his arm and waist.

Castiel pulls his helmet off, grinning madly.

“That was awesome!” He gushes.

“You had fun, then?” Benny asks, removing his own headgear and setting it on the motorcycle's seat.

“ _So_ much fun! I mean- I thought it'd be scary, going so fast, but it was great!” He laughs.

“I didn't peg you for a thrill seeker.” Benny admits, smiling at the shine in Castiel's eyes.

Castiel shrug. “I didn't either. But... that was _fun_.” He hands his helmet to Benny, who takes it and spins it in his hands thoughtfully.

“Hey, um.” He says, sounding slightly bashful, which is odd. “I know we don't know each other very well but, uh, you think you might want to get something to eat sometime?”

“What?” Castiel asks, a little confused.

“I mean,” Benny continues. “I kinda thought you and Dean were datin', to be honest. Because back a the studio- but I asked him and he said you weren't, so I thought maybe... you and me could give it a go?” He gives a nervous chuckle and smiles hopefully.

“You... you're asking me out?” Castiel realizes.

“I'm askin' you out.” Benny confirms.

“Oh dear.” Castiel breathes. His head is still spinning from adrenaline, and he has no idea what to do just now. What is he supposed to say to this?

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah.” Castiel stammers, just as Dean walks out the front door of Cuffs. “Can I, um, can I think about it?” He asks hurriedly.

“Course.” Benny tells him. “Can I give you my number?”

Dean approaches them, just as Castiel nods. “I don't have a phone right now, but I'm about to get one, if you want to write it down.”

“Yeah!” Benny starts searching his pants and jacket pockets for a pen.

“What?” Dean asks suddenly. “What happened to your phone?”

“My parents finally decided to turn mine off.” Castiel tells him, slightly bitter edge to his voice. “I can't exactly afford a new contract, so Gabriel thinks I should get a pre-paid.”

Dean is looking at him with slight frown. “That's why you didn't text me back earlier.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “Well, um, if you get a new number, you should let me know.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely!” Castiel says, just as Benny finds a pen in his jacket pocket and takes Castiel's wrist gently, so he can write his number on the inside of the boy's arm.

Dean rubs his chin, slightly pained expression on his face. Then he sniffs, and pushes his hands roughly into his pockets. His shoulders look tense.

“You okay?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah.” Dean says. “Yeah.”

Benny finishes writing, clicks his pen, and pushes it back into his pocket.

“Well, I gotta head out,” He drawls, “But let me know.”

“Okay.” Castiel replies weakly.

Benny thumps Dean on the back and throws Castiel a parting wink before striding back over to his bike and climbing on. Moments later, he roars off, leaving both boys staring after him.

Castiel feels dizzy, stunned, and kind of confused. When he finally looks over at Dean, he finds him already looking back.

“What was that about?” Dean asks, voice oddly flat.

“What?” For some reason, Castiel doesn't really want to tell. He feels unreasonably guilty.

Dean reaches out, almost touches Castiel's arm, and stops. “The- uh, the number. And everything.”

“He, um...” Castiel lets out a slow breath. He doesn't really want to tell, but there's no reason not to. He didn't do anything wrong, _isn't_ doing anything wrong. “He asked me out.” He says softly.

Dean nods, jaw clenching. He doesn't looks surprised though. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“You did?”

“He asked about you right before you guys left. I didn't know- I should'a...” He trails off, scrubbing a hand over his chin. “What'd you say?”

“I told him I'd think about it.”

“So what are you thinkin'?”

Castiel shrugs. He's not sure what to say. It's not really Benny he wants to go out with, but there's a little part of him that thinks he should do it. A very small part. Things are confusing.

“What do you think I should do?”

Dean blinks at him. He stares for several long moments, then he swallows. “Maybe you should go.” He says softly. “That way you can have something to compare our date to.”

“Oh.” Is all Castiel can think to say. He feels kind of... crushed. He's not really sure what he expected to happen, the hypothetical details are hazy to say the least. Maybe, in the very darkest corners of his mind, he'd thought that Dean might tell him not to go on a date with Benny, to go on another date with him instead, and then maybe they could make out a bunch. Alright, so it was a long shot, and he'll never admit it in a million years... but it still stings.

He can't deal with this. Suddenly, it's too much. Everything was going well, and now suddenly it's not. It's almost funny how quickly things can turn around. Almost, but not quite.

“I have to go.” He says. His voice sounds small in his own ears, but it doesn't really matter because he can't hear much of anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. He turns quickly and makes his way toward the shop.

“Cas- wait.” He hears behind him, but he doesn't stop. He sweeps into the store, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Meg sees his face and sits back in her chair. “What happened?” She asks.

“Nothing.” Castiel tells her, grabbing the pile of receipts from the counter and continuing on through the store, to the break room, and out the back door. He stomps up the back steps toward the apartment, ignoring the sound of Dean coming around the building after him.

He locks the front door behind him and goes straight to his room. He locks that door too, curling up in bed, pulling his blanket up over him, shoes and all.

He's aware that he's being irrational, childish. He's incredibly, acutely aware. But he's just so _frustrated_. By... by everything, but by Dean most of all.

It's just this: Castiel knows that there's something between him and Dean. He has thought about it a lot, about all the looks and the touches and the times it seemed like they'd almost kiss, the time they did kiss. It means something. He's never admitted it aloud, he rarely even admits it to himself. But there it is. Deep down, under all the self doubt and the denial and the fear, he can feel it in his bones.

And yet... they just dance around each other. They _keep_ just dancing around each other. It's both of their faults, but Castiel just can't find the courage in him to end this stupid cycle. He's a coward, and Dean should know that. Dean should realize that Castiel is afraid and weak, and _he_ should be the brave one.

Castiel huffs, closing his eyes ender the covers, swallowing back his feelings. Stupid, horrible feelings. They make him irrational and unreasonable. He's acting like a nut and he knows it, but he has no strength to stop himself.

Slowly, he falls asleep.

 

Castiel's head is pounding, there's a crick in his neck. He feels heavy and stuck. Slowly he wakes, and realizes that he's fallen asleep under the covers with his clothes and shoes on.

“Idiot.” He grumbles at himself.

He untangles himself from the blankets groggily and stumbles to his feet, yawning and stretching, forgetting for the moment what made him so tired in the first place.

He's reminded abruptly when he bumbles into the living room and finds Dean and Gabriel sitting on the couch together. They both look up when he enters, and he's hit with a fresh wave of embarrassment.

He rubs his face, feigning more grogginess than he actually feels to cover his expression.

“Hey.” He mumbles, going to the kitchen.

“Hey.” Gabriel says. “You fall asleep?”

Castiel gets a glass from the cupboard and takes it to the sink. “Yep.” He affirms, turning on the tap. “How long was I out?”

“Only like an hour.” Gabriel tells him, turning back to the television. “Chopped is on.”

“Hmm.” Castiel lifts his glass and chugs the tap water, trying to wash the taste of sleep out of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean get up.

“Cas,” He says as he approaches. “Everything... okay?”

“Everything's great.” Castiel says dryly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“'Cause you kind of ran off earlier and I thought-”

“Felt nauseous.” Castiel lies, staring at the wallpaper.

“Cas.” Dean says again, leaning against the counter-top next to him. “I...”

Castiel waits, breath held, a tiny amount of hope building in his chest, despite his best efforts.

“I just want to make sure you're alright.” Dean finishes.

Of course. That's all it was. That's all it ever is.

“I was just tired.” Castiel tells the truth this time, finally meeting Dean's eye. “I'm tired.” He's tired of having a crush. He's tired of having his feelings pushed all over the place, of not having any control over them. He's tired of everything. There's an icy little shard of bitterness wedged in his chest, and he says, “Maybe I _will_ go out with Benny.”

Dean blinks, but otherwise his expression doesn't change. He doesn't say anything.

“He's nice, I think.” Castiel continues. “And he's handsome.”

To Castiel's disappointment, all Dean says is, “He _is_ nice. He's an okay guy.” But there _is_ something at the edge of Dean's expression that suggests he's unhappy with the situation. That's all Castiel gets though, before Dean is looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Anyway, I better go. I'll, um... I'll talk to you later, Cas.”

“Yeah.” Says Castiel.

Dean waves to Gabriel, and leaves.

Castiel goes back to his room, and sits on his bed, and wishes with every fiber of his being that he know how to handle things like an adult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap18)
> 
>  
> 
> **Okay, so here's a question for you guys:**  
>  If this story were edited (a LOT) and changed a bit, and about original characters instead of ones you already know and love, is there any chance you'd read it?  
> Because I was *thinking* of re-writing this story once it's done, with different characters, and putting it on Wattpad. I know it's not my best, but i'm really enjoying writing it, so I thought i'd ask.


	19. Vodka + Sprite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **In this chapter**  
>  \- Castiel beats himself up  
> \- Castiel kisses two different boys  
> \- Castiel gets very, very drunk  
> \- Castiel makes a mess
> 
> **WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER (possible spoilers)**  
>  \- underage drinking  
> \- sexual stuffs (finally starting to earn that E rating, folks!), no actual sex though.   
> \- v brief cas/benny. Nothing sexual happens though.

Castiel doesn't see Dean the next day, and although he could probably find a way to get in touch with him (he could borrow Gabriel's phone, for instance) he doesn't. He wallows. He stays in bed, trying to focus on the paperwork for the shop, but failing miserably. He just doesn't know what to do about any of this, and it eats at him. It makes him anxious and frustrated.

Ultimately, despite the sick feeling in his stomach, he decides to take Benny up on his offer. Because what if he only feels this way about Dean because Dean is the first person to ever show any slight interest in him?

Alright, so that doesn't really make sense, mostly because Dean hasn't actually _said_ that he likes Castiel, which just brings up a whole other set of questions and frustrations, to be honest. And he wants... _something_. With somebody. He'd like to know how it feels to be with someone for real, knowing it's for real. There's this cold, empty feeling in his stomach when he thinks about being in a relationship, because the idea is undeniably scary, and yet he still wants it. He _wants_ to feel loved in that way, not just as a friend or a family member. Well, that too, but more than that.

So, he's got two options at the moment: he could sit around and pine after Dean, who may never make a move, who may not even actually like him; or, he could go out on a date with a man who actually asked him out on a for-real date, who has openly expressed a genuine interest in Castiel, and who is pretty easy on the eyes. It should be an easy decision, theoretically. He should think, “Oh, yes. I'll go out with the man who likes me, of course.” but it's hard. He feels, despite a lack of evidence in favor, like he's betraying Dean.

Eventually, to stop himself from wallowing further, he uses Gabriel's cell to call Sam, and the two of them drive to the nearest Walmart to get Castiel a phone.

They stand in the aisle in the electronics department, looking at the display phones at trying to decide how cheap is _too_ cheap.

Sam pokes at one of the more expensive phones, stuck to a little plastic stand. “So,” He starts, trying to sound nonchalant, and failing terribly. “I heard Benny asked you out.”

“Yeah.” Castiel confirms. He busies himself looking at phones as well, even though he's not really paying that much attention to them anymore.

“Are you gonna go?” Sam asks.

Castiel sighs, letting his hand drop to his side. “I don't know, Sam. I hadn't really decided.”

Sam frowns thoughtfully. “I mean, you Dean haven't gone out since-”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” Sam sounds disappointed.

“You know that was just for the list, right? He took me out because he felt sorry for me.” Castiel tells Sam, even though the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sam turns toward him, abandoning all pre-tense of looking at the phones, leaning carefully against the side of the display. “I mean, I know that's what he said but I don't know. I kinda think he might like you.”

“What makes you say that?” Castiel wonders, hoping the question comes off as curious and not horribly needy.

Sam gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Just, you know. He talks about you a lot.”

“So what?” Castiel counters. “Gabriel talks about pizza a lot.”

“You know what I mean.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I don't know anything.”

“He just- he seems happier when-”

“Sam.” Castiel interrupts. “I really don't know.”

“But don't you... you know. Like him? You do, don't you?”

Castiel stays silent for several long moments. In a way, he sort of misses how it was back before he met Dean, when things were simpler.

“I don't... not.” He hedges.

Sam gives an unamused look.

Castiel sighs. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah, alright.” Sam concedes. “But, just. Think about it, okay? I know you don't believe me, but just think about it.”

“What's there to think about? Benny asked me on an actual date.”

Sam seems like he's getting a little upset thinking about all this, fiddling anxiously with the hem of his shirtsleeve. “Okay, yeah. But I'm sure he's getting around to it. Maybe if I talked to him-”

“Do _not_!” Castiel pleads. “ _Please_ don't say anything to him.”

“Fine.” Sam grumbles. He reaches over and taps one of the display phones. “How about this one.”

Castiel gives it a cursory glance. “It'll work.” He says, grabbing a box with the corresponding phone from beneath the display. He's glad of the subject change, as abrupt as it was.

They don't talk about Dean again, aside from the stray comment here and there. They stick to lighter topics, although there's a somber air over the rest of the outing.

Sam hangs out for a while after they back to the apartment. They sit around and watch movies, and by the time Gabriel gets home things are back to normal.

“Yo!” Gabriel shouts as he comes into the living room and flops down onto the couch next to Sam and Castiel. “You get a new phone?”

“Yeah.” Castiel pulls out his new phone to show his cousin. “Wasn't even as expensive as I thought it'd be.”

“Bitchin'.” Gabriel says approvingly. “You gonna call that hot biker?”

Castiel gapes at him in surprise. “How did you-”

“Meg told me.” Gabriel confesses. “Said he was a real “hot piece of ass”. So, you know, good for you! Although I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you dating.” He says seriously, before breaking into a grin. “Just kiddin'!” He slaps Castiel on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Don't forget lube!”

“Gabriel!” Sam chastises. “Don't tell him _that_!”

“Why?” Gabriel scoffs. “It's not like he's _actually_ gonna sleep with the guy.”

“I- I _might_!” Castiel sputters. “You don't know!”

They both turn and look at him with matching skeptical expressions.

“Ahuh.” Says Gabriel. “Right. I bet you don't even call the guy!”

Castiel huffs. He's embarrassed and frustrated and his face feels hot. “I will!” He insists, pulling his new phone out again and reading the number off of his arm to type into his phone.

“Gabriel!” Sam hisses.

“What?” Gabriel asks, clueless as usual.

“I was...” He lowers his voice, but Castiel can still here him. “Trying to get _him and Dean_ -”

“How was I supposed to know that?!” Gabriel snaps. “I can't read minds, pipsqueak!”

Castiel gets up and goes to the kitchen as they continue to bicker.

Okay, so he's mostly doing this to spite Gabriel, but also he's still doing this for himself. For all the reasons he told Sam, and has been telling himself since it first came up. He takes a deep breath, and presses the call button.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings. And then suddenly it's going to voicemail, and Castiel doesn't know what to do.

Castiel hates leaving voicemails, he's the worst at it. The absolute worst. But he doesn't want to leave a message that's just two seconds of air, those are terrible, and he's quickly running out of time.

Then the tone is sounding, and he's off and babbling. Wonderful.

“Uh, hey, Benny.” Castiel says to the voicemail. “This is, uh, Castiel. From Gilda's? And um. You, uh, let me ride your motorcycle yesterday? And you gave me your number? Anyway, it's, uh, it's me. I was just calling to- to tell you that I, um, I'd like to take you up on your, uh, offer. So- i mean, if you could call me back, that'd be great. If you want. You don't have to. Just- if you feel like it. No- no pressure. Yeah. Okay, so, bye.”

He ends the call, and immediately flops down onto the ground in utter and absolute humiliation. There is no way Benny is going to call back if he listens to that message.

From the doorway, Gabriel agrees. “That was the most pathetic thing i've ever heard in my entire life.”

Castiel rolls his head on the linoleum floor to look up at his cousin. “I'm not good at phones.” He explains.

“I think maybe you're just not good at talking in general.”

Castiel sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “True.”

 

It's several hours before Castiel's phone rings, and Benny's name pops up on the screen. He stares at the thing in horror. This can't be happening. There's no way. He takes the call.

“Hello?” He says into the device.

“ _Castiel_?” Says a deep voice.

“Um, yes?” Castiel affirms, still believing that it couldn't possibly be Benny.

“ _It's Benny_.” Says Benny.

Fuck, Castiel thinks. “Hi!” He says.

“ _I got your voicemail_.” The man says, sounding amused.

Castiel closes his eyes and presses a palm to his forehead. “I am _so_ sorry.” He groans. “I'm terrible at voicemails.”

A laugh sounds through the speaker, deep and rumbling. “ _It's okay. I thought it was cute._ ”

“Oh.” Castiel says. His cheeks start to flush, even though he's alone.

“ _Are you free tonight_?” Benny asks.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” Castiel tells him.

“ _How about I pick you up at seven? I know this really good restaurant on Eleventh._ ”

“Um, yeah. Okay.” Castiel finds himself agreeing. “Sounds- sounds good.”

“ _Alright, I'll see you then_.”

“Bye.”

“ _Bye_.”

The call ends, and Castiel, who had been in his room, stumbles out into the living room.

“Benny called me back.” He tells Gabriel, who is currently immersed in a marathon of My Strange Addiction.

“Wha- who?” Gabriel asks, not looking away from the screen.

“Biker guy.” Castiel clarifies.

“Oh!” Gabriel turns toward him, interested now. “Did he not hear your voicemail?”

“He thought it was... cute.” He tells Gabriel.

His cousin frowns, looking taken aback. “Fuck. So he's... stupid?”

“I don't... think so.” Castiel says, uncertain.

“Because that voicemail was _not_ cute.”

“Yes, i know.”

“I was like, an _actual_ trainwreck.”

“Alright, yes, it was pretty-”

“Or like one of those _really_ bad movies, that are so bad that they're not even funny they're just _actually_ bad.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Like. Have you ever seen The Room? It's so bad. Like, _so bad_. There's like two ten minute sex scenes, and they're the same sex scene. Re-used. At different points in the movie. Exactly the same. It's like they didn't even try. And it's not even a good sex scene it's like-”

“Okay, yes, _thank you_ Gabriel!” Castiel snaps. “I have a date, is what I came to tell you!”

Gabriel closes his mouth, sobering. “A date?”

“A date. An actual, for real, date.”

Gabriel just looks at him for a moment. “You nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Because you barely know this guy. He could be some kind of creepy axe murderer for all you know.”

“I don't think he is.” Says Castiel.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gabriel asks, uncharacteristically serious.

“I don't exactly have a lot of offers, do I?”

“Well there's always-”

“ _Don't say D-_ ”

“Prostitutes.”

“What?”

“What.”

“That's... not what I thought you were going to say.”

Gabriel blinks. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“Ah, nothing.”

“Also Dean.” Gabriel says quickly.

“Never speak to me again.” Says Castiel.

 

Castiel dresses up. He's not sure just how nice this restaurant they're going to is, so he sticks with his basic jeans and button-down combo. It generally works for just about anything, as long as they're nice jeans. He combs his hair down, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he looks okay. He looks nice.

There's a part of him that doesn't want to look nice. There's a part of him that wants to crawl back into bed and stay there. But he's trying new things, he tells himself.

He tries not to think about Dean, and fails miserably. Dean is just about _all_ he can think about, in fact. Would Dean think he looks nice? Would Dean like his shirt? Why didn't _Dean_ ask him on a real date? Why couldn't he be about to go out with Dean?

Just, ugh.

Everything is terrible. He feels an awful mix of anticipation, dread, butterflies, excitement and worry, and it's threatening to send him heaving into the sink. The thing that complicates things the most is that he likes Benny, he does. Benny seems really cool, and he's been very straightforward. Castiel can appreciate that.

And. And...

And it's nice to be wanted. He _wants_ to feel wanted. It's not something he's every really experienced before, and it's heady.

Benny pulls up in front of the shop at six fifty-five, bike rumbling and growling beneath him. Castiel, who has been waiting anxiously by the door, runs out right away. He's so nervous he almost trips on his way down the stairs. He quickly rights himself, hoping Benny didn't see, and walks carefully down the rest of the way.

“Hi!” He says, coming up beside the man, who has been watching him approach.

“Hey.” Benny replies. “You ready to go?”

Castiel nods, and takes the offered helmet. He fits it over his head and gets on the back of Benny's motorcycle.

 

The date goes well. Benny takes him to a nice restaurant and he's a complete gentleman and he's very nice and easy to talk to. But throughout the whole thing, Castiel keeps thinking of Dean. When Benny laughs, Castiel thinks of the way _Dean_ laughs. Everything – _everything –_ makes him wish Dean were there. It's terrible, and it makes his chest ache, and he continues to feel like he might throw up. He's just so disappointed that this didn't help, that he can't make himself feel that way about Benny. Because he really, really likes Benny, but Benny isn't Dean.

Castiel is so anxious that on their way back he has a bit of a panic attack, but thankfully they're on the motorcycle and Benny doesn't notice. Benny walks him to the bottom of the apartment's stairs, he set his hand on the railing and leans against it.

“So, I think tonight went really well.” He starts. “But... I'm sort of getting the feeling that you didn't?”

Castiel sighs. “I'm sorry.”

Benny grimaces. “Where'd I go wrong?”

“No, it's- it's not- it's nothing like that.” Castiel hurries to assure him. “You're super nice, and funny, and everything was good. But...” He looks up and takes a breath. “There's... this guy.”

“Ah.” Benny breathes. He looks disappointed. More than disappointed, in fact. Leaning a little more toward crushed.

“It's- he doesn't...” Castiel frowns, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “I thought I could get over it. And you're really, really great. I guess I thought that if we went out, maybe it would... help.”

Benny just looks down at him with those big, sad eyes. “Did it?”

“No.” Castiel whispers, feeling immensely guilty, and much, much worse than he did before this date.

Benny nods, pursing his lips. “That...” He blows out a quick breath. “That fuckin' sucks, man, 'cause I _really_ like you.”

“I really am sorry.” Castiel says quietly.

“I know.” Benny says. “I wasn't tryin' to make you feel guilty, i just... you know.”

“I know.”

They're both quiet for a moment, and then Benny gives him a tiny, mirthless smile.

“How about a goodnight kiss?” He says. “Just in case... maybe you'll feel...”

“Okay.” Castiel agrees, because why not?

Benny leans forward into Castiel's space, bends his head, and kisses Castiel softly on the lips. It's a good kiss. A _really_ good kiss. Benny's lips are soft, and he's not pushy. He just slides his lips over Castiel's, brushing his tongue against Castiel's bottom lip when the opportunity arises.

When he pulls back, he leaves Castiel dizzy and flushed. The boy reaches out, putting a hand on the stair railing to steady himself. He wishes they could kiss more, do... other things, because he imagines that Benny would be soft and gentle and intimate in all things. But that would hardly be fair, because Castiel is certain that he'd spend the whole time wishing it were Dean, and he can't do that to Benny.

“Hmm.” Castiel hums sheepishly, taking a step back and covering his mouth with his hand.

“Anything?” Benny asks, a hint of hope in his eyes.

“Well, you're a really good kisser.” Castiel tells him, hoping to soften the blow. “But-”

“Yeah, I know.” Benny rubs at his forehead. “Had to give it a shot though, didn't I?”

Castiel looks at him a moment longer. “Well, goodnight.” He says finally.

“Hey, um,” Benny says suddenly, reaching out toward Castiel, but not touching. “If it doesn't work out with this guy, you'll give me a call, right?”

“Yeah.” Castiel says, serious. “I will.”

Benny gives him another small smile and nods, “Goodnight.” He leaves.

Castiel stands at the bottom of the steps for a long time after the rumble of Benny's bike has faded, thinking. When he finally goes inside, he finds Gabriel asleep on the couch with the television blaring. He turns it off and gets a blanket to drape over his slumbering cousin.

 

-o-

 

Castiel spends a week agonizing and beating himself up over this whole situation before he sees Dean again. He almost begs out of going to Dean and Sam's apartment Wednesday night, but everyone is going to be there, and Gabriel says not to be an antisocial butthead. Mostly, though, he just wants to pretend that everything is normal, and he's never missed a movie night before.

Castiel is anxious in the car, and can't stop himself from having a panic attack halfway there, so it takes them twice as long to reach the apartment, because Gabriel has to stop the car for a while.

By the time they arrive, everyone is already there. Sam and Dean, Charlie, Gilda, Jess, and even Balthazar, who has been squeezing himself back into Castiel's life lately. There's a movie on, pizza in the kitchen, and booze on the coffee table. When they come in the door, Charlie leaps to her feet and proclaims that tonight is the night for Castiel to get drunk.

He's only ever drunk a little before, not really enough to get drunk, and he's a little apprehensive, but he lets Charlie make him a drink and press it into his hand, and sits down on the floor as far away from Dean as he can.

 

Dean doesn't talk to him. He's not outright ignoring Castiel; he'll ask for Castiel to pass things, answer questions, things like that, but they're not _talking_. Not like they usually do. Castiel is so used to being close to Dean, having conversations with Dean, and now there's nothing. He can feel Dean looking over at him sometimes, but as soon as Castiel turns to look back, Dean is staring resolutely in the other direction.

Sam knows about the Castiel going on a date with Benny, so it makes sense that Dean would too. Castiel hasn't told anybody about the date's end though, about how he's not going to see Benny again. He's not sure why, but he's sort of ashamed of it. Maybe he feels like a quitter. Or maybe it's because he thinks he actually hurt Benny's feelings, and that's not something he's proud of at all. But either way he's feeling sad and guilty and maybe he drinks a little more than he should. In his defense, Charlie just keeps handing him things to try, and what's he supposed to do?

Anyway, he's drunk now, and boy it's nice. He's feeling warm and happy, and he keeps forgetting what he was sad about before, so it doesn't matter any more. He's laughing along with everybody else, talking more than usual, and he makes a dirty joke that has Charlie shrieking with laughter.

He almost doesn't notice Dean getting up, mumbling something about needing some air. He almost misses Dean slipping out the apartment door.

But he doesn't miss it, and suddenly he's overwhelmed with the feeling that he needs to talk to Dean _now_. He has to go make sure... something. He's not really sure. But there's something, something that's wrong. And he needs to... fix it. Or maybe figure it out. Things aren't very clear.

Nevertheless, he grabs his plastic cup full of vodka and sprite and surges to his feel, stumbling across the apartment and into the hall. He makes it out in time to see Dean taking the steps up, and he knows that Dean is headed to the roof.

He continues to follow, at a much slower pace, because he's having quite a bit of trouble with these damn stairs and their inability to stay still. Somehow, he makes it up to the roof unscathed, having only spilled a little of his drink.

He pushes the door to the roof open and peeks around it in what he hopes is a sneaky fashion, because at some point he decided that it was important that he be sneaky, although he can't quite remember why now. He sees Dean sitting on the concrete over by the edge of the roof, looking up at the sky, sipping his own drink.

Castiel steps out onto the roof and, like an idiot, lets the door slam shut behind him. He winces, and Dean looks over sharply, startled. When he sees who it is, he looks sort of tired.

Castiel is not deterred, and he goes over to flop down beside Dean and spill a bit more of his drink on the pavement.

“Cas,” Dean says, not looking at him. “Why're you here, man?” Dean asks.

“Just wanted to, uh. Make sure you were... okay? Yeah. Make sure you were okay.” Castiel tells him, trying his best not to sway where he sits.

“'m fine.” Dean grumbles, obviously not fine.

“Hey,” Castiel grabs onto Dean's bicep. Partially to stop himself from falling over, and partially because Dean's bicep is... yeah. It's nice. “You're not talking to me.” He slurs a little, cursing himself. He's got to keep a level head, dammit! “Why?”

Instead of answering, Dean takes a long drink from his own cup, which smells heavily of whiskey, and asks, “How'd your date with, uh, you know. What'shisname. How'd it go? You have lots of fun?” There's a sharp, bitter edge to his voice, and Castiel frowns.

“How drunk are you?”

Dean shrugs. “A lot, to... a bunch.” He sighs.

“It was... okay.” Castiel answers Dean's question.

“Did you-” Dean starts, then stops himself, clenching his jaw.

“What?” Castiel asks. He realizes suddenly that he's still holding on to Dean's arm, and he gives it a little squeeze. Damn, that's nice.

“Did he-” He huffs. “Never mind.”

“Tell me.” Castiel insists, giving Dean's arm a tug.

“Did you guys....” He turns to look at Castiel, eye's pleading. “Come on, man, don't make me say it.” He whispers. His hand is shaking, Castiel notices, and maybe he's more drunk that Castiel originally thought.

“I don't- i don't know you're trying to say.” Castiel tells him honestly. He feels like he should know, like it's right there in the back of his mind, but he can't quite figure it out. “We went out, then we came back. He kissed me, and then he went home.” He hopes that answers whatever question Dean is trying to ask, because he doesn't know what else to say.

Dean looks relieved for a moment, but then the shadow is back over his expression. “He a good kisser?”

“Yeah.” Castiel tells him honestly. “I don't think I'll see him again though.”

Dean's eyes flit up to his, and they're so open now. Maybe more open than Castiel has ever seen him.

“Why not?”

Castiel stares at Dean for a long moment. He almost blurts it out, right there. He can barely keep a hold of his tongue. He wants to grab Dean and shake him and tell him, _because he's not you, idiot_! But he manages to say, surprisingly evenly,

“I think he's, uh, a little too, um, old for me.”

“He's not that old.” Dean says quietly, suddenly much closer than he was before. When did he get so close? Castiel can't remember.

“I guess not.” Castiel admits. He can't form a single coherent thought. His head is all filled up with Dean, and Dean's freckles, all over his nose. He remembers masturbating, and thinking about coming all over Dean's freckles.

“Um.” He says, swallowing. He's suddenly very, very warm, and he can feel his dick stirring to life in his jeans. And he doesn't care. He can't find an ounce of care anywhere in himself. He just wants... he wants...

“I want to see your tattoo.” He says, breathlessly.

“Okay.” Dean says immediately. He has this look on his face that Castiel has never seen before. But he thinks blurrily that, in this moment, Dean would probably do anything he asked.

He reaches up and tugs the collar of his shirt down, to expose his left pectoral. Stark black against his skin, is a pentagram, circled by a ring of flames.

Castiel can't see it quite as well as he wants. Without even thinking about it, he reaches down and pulls at the bottom of Dean's shirt.

“Take your shirt off.” He says.

Dean just nods, dazedly, and quickly pulls his shirt up over his head. His skin is immediately covered with goosebumps from the chilly fall air, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Castiel leans forward, pressing his hand to the tanned skin of Dean's chest, next to his tattoo. He hears Dean's breath hitch.

“It's beautiful.” Castiel tells him, maybe talking about more than one thing, but he's the only one who knows that. He trails his hand down Dean's chest, unable to stop himself, and settles it on his friend's stomach.

“T-thanks.” Dean stutters. He sounds winded. “It. Um. It w-was, uh, a necklace, my mom had. We- we thought it was a good... idea...” He trails off as Castiel traces the inside edge of his belly button. It's just so soft, and odd. And the trail of hair just beneath it is course.

Everything is so easy in this moment. So, so easy. He's not worried about rejection, or how this looks. If Dean wants to stop him, he can, but Castiel has a feeling, in the pit of his stomach, that Dean's isn't going to stop him. He's not worried about it.

So, when Castiel sits up suddenly and moves to straddle Dean's lap, he feels no fear. There's a little voice in the back of his head telling him that he'd never, ever do this if he were sober, but he silences it quickly by downing the rest of his drink in one go. He tosses his cup to the side, and looks down at Dean, who seems worryingly close to some sort of cardiac arrest.

Dean, seemingly sensing the gravity of the moment, scrambles blindly for his own drink. Once he finds it he brings it to his lips and gulps it all down, keeping his eyes on Castiel. He seems to be afraid to even blink. When he's done drinking he sets his cup down beside him and leans back on his hands, looking up at Castiel like he doesn't believe this is happening.

“So...” Castiel says, running his hands up Dean's chest, feeling the soft skin and hard muscles beneath his fingers, until they rest on Dean's bare shoulders. “D'ya wanna make out?”

Dean sits up, nodding frantically. “Yeah.” He says, grasping Castiel suddenly by the waist and hauling him even closer.

Castiel lets himself go loose and pliant as Dean leans up to press their lips together. He loops his arms around his friend's neck and when Dean's tongue brushes insistently against his lips, he lets him in. It's messy and wet and they're both very drunk. Objectively, Castiel knows that, form wise, his kiss with Benny was better. But this one, _God_ this one, it has him squirming and panting and groaning into Dean's mouth, hard in his jeans and yearning for _more, please more_.

Dean's hands are roaming downward to palm his ass, and Castiel lets one hand drift back down Dean's chest, thumbing firmly over a hard nipple. Dean growls, and suddenly everything is tilting. Castiel yelps as Dean rolls them, until Castiel is laying on his back on the cold concrete, Dean above him, in between his legs. It's not exactly comfortable, but he'll take it.

Never in his life did Castiel think he'd be the type to spread his legs so easily, but he's learning new things about himself all the time. He spreads his legs wider now, so that Dean can fit more snugly between them, and he can feel the press of Dean's hips to the backs of his thighs.

Dean kisses him again, and again, and Castiel feels dizzy and magnificent. Then Dean is shifting, slotting their hips together, kissing the side of Castiel's mouth, his cheek, his neck. He starts sucking the pulse there just as he rolls his hips, bringing their jean-clad erections together.

Castiel lets out a strangled groan, unable to stop himself from burying his hands in Dean's hair and gripping tight. The sensation, it's amazing. Everything, all of this together, it's so brilliantly overwhelming, it's like fireworks are going off behind his eyes.

He gasps sharply at a sudden pain in his neck. “Ow!” He says, “Did you just _bite_ me?”

Dean brings his head up, but doesn't still the rocking of his hips.

“Sorry.” He says, sheepishly. “Guess I got a little carried aw-”

“Do it again.” Castiel tells him.

This time, Dean does still, to Castiel's dismay.

“What?”

Castiel leans his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. “Bite me again.” He says.

Dean lets out a rough breath above him, starts rocking his hips again, and says, “Fuck. Yeah.”

The next time Dean bites him, it's too much. All the sensation, it's just way, way too much. He comes on a wail, arching his back and pulling hard on Dean's hair. Then he goes limp, his skin buzzing oddly. He suddenly has no energy at all. He's aware of Dean growling through his own release and slumping down on top of him.

Castiel presses weakly at his friend's shoulder. “Getoff.” He mumbles. “Heavy.”

Dean snuffles at his neck for a second, before moving himself just a little to the right, enough to roll off of Castiel.

“We should... go inside.” Castiel says, yawning.

“Hmm.” Dean hums in agreement, cushioning his head on his arms.

They really should go inside, Castiel thinks, as exhaustion overtakes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is a bossy, slutty drunk and I love it.  
>  <3 <3


	20. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter in the middle of the day because i've finished it, and I just had to give it to you guys, because I love you all so much!
> 
> There's no sex in this chapter, but from this point on there should be quite a bit!
> 
>  **In this chapter:**  
>  \- castiel hates life  
> \- charlie is a terrible friend (but not really)  
> \- gabriel continues to cockblock  
> \- feelings. are. spilled.
> 
>  **WARNINGS:**  
>  \- vomiting

  Everything is horrible. Castiel isn't even half awake yet and he can already tell that the entire world, and everything in it, is just dreadful. He's _cold_ , really really cold, and he's laying on something hard. He has a crick in his neck, a splitting headache, and his stomach is roiling uncomfortably.

He groans, blinking furiously and trying to figure out _where in fuck's name_ he even _is_ right now. As he blinks, though, he realizes that it's dark. Slowly, slowly, the world comes back into focus.

The roof, he realizes, he's on the roof of... of where? Someone's apartment. Dean. Dean and Sam's apartment building. And there's Dean, lying on the cold concrete next to him, curled up into a ball and shivering violently because he doesn't even have a shirt on.

Unfortunately, that's about as far as Castiel gets before his stomach is revolting and he's puking all over the concrete. He throws up twice, until he's just heaving and nothing more will come out. That's about the time he realizes that he has an _extremely_ uncomfortable situation in his pants. Semen. He has fucking _come_ all in his goddamn pants. It's partially dry but mostly still sticky in there and it feels _terrible_.

There's a stirring behind him, and then Dean's voice, teeth chattering with cold.

“C-Cas?” He says. “What- you okay?”

Castiel shakes his head, because everything is horrible, he still may be the _smallest_ bit drunk, and he thinks he might cry.

There's more movement behind him, and then Dean's hand on his back. “Aw, you threw up.” He says weakly, obviously not feeling great himself. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” Dean says, as Castiel's lip begins to quiver. “C'mon, we'll go inside. It'll be okay.”

He helps Castiel stand, which is difficult because Castiel is feeling weak from all the throwing up, and Dean is shaking terribly. He grabs his shirt as they stumble back toward the door, but doesn't seem to have the energy to put it on.

“What time is it?” Castiel asks.

Dean shakes his head. “Dunno. L-left my phone inside.”

Once they get inside the building, it's much warmer, and Dean visibly relaxes.

“Fuck.” He says, as they climb slowly down the stairs. “I've got come all in my pants.” He tugs at the crotch of his jeans, wincing, but it doesn't seem to help.

“Me too.” Castiel sniffles. “I hate everything in the entire world.”

They're quiet for the rest of the trip down, and when they come to Dean's apartment door, the man hesitates. “I wonder if anybody's awake.” He whispers.

Castiel shrugs. “I don't even know how long we were gone for.”

Dean grimaces, and presses his ear to the door. After a moment, he turns the nob slowly, and presses in.

The apartment is dark, and mostly quiet. The tv is on, but it's not loud, and as the two of them tiptoe through the living room, they see that mostly everyone is asleep. Balthazar is snoring loudly on the couch, Gabriel is laying atop a pile of blankets on the living room floor, and Charlie and Gilda are curled up together on the bean-bag chair. Sam and Jess are nowhere to be seen, but Castiel can guess that they're probably in Sam's room.

“Okay,” Dean says, once they make it to his room. “You can take a shower first. It's pretty quiet, and I don't think anybody'll wake up.” He rummages around in a laundry hamper next to his bed until he finds a pair of pajama pants and a big shirt. He hands them to Castiel.

Castiel makes his way to the bathroom in a daze, trying to make as little noise as possible. The clock next to the mirror says that it's 3: 08 in the morning, which means that Castiel and Dean were asleep up there for about five hours.

Castiel grimaces and turns on the shower before peeling out of his clothes. They're disgusting. He'll probably have to throw his underwear away.

When he steps into the shower, though, he feels for a moment that everything is okay. The hot water slides over him, warming him up, loosening his muscles, easing his headache. It's glorious. Never in his life has he appreciated a shower so much.

It takes him a little time to clean up the... mess, but once he does, he's starting to feel like a real person again.

He dries off with a fluffy blue towel and slips into Dean's pajamas which smell, wonderfully, like Dean. He's still tired and he hurts and he's sick to his stomach, but things are at least bearable now.

He gathers up his soiled clothes and sneaks back over to Dean's room, where he finds the other man dozing where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers. “Wake up.”

Dean starts awake, almost falling off of the bed before Castiel reaches out to steady him.

“Wha- Cas, what's-?” He mumbles.

“You can take a shower now.” Castiel tells him. “Can I put my, um, my dirty clothes somewhere?”

Dean points to a second hamper by the door. “Over there.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “Um. I got you some water.” He points to a large glass of water on the bedside table. “You should drink it.” And then he stumbles out of the room, half asleep.

Castiel sits on the edge of the bed, sipping water and thinking.

He remembers what happened. Well, most of it, anyway, but it's hard to process right now. He wants to wonder if this was okay, if things will change, if Dean will think it was a mistake, but he's just so _tired_. All he wants is to go to sleep. But he doesn't want to fall asleep in Dean's bed if the man doesn't want him there. So he waits, nodding off every few minutes, until Dean comes back.

When Dean slips back into the room, he's frowning, and holding a tube of something that sort of looks like toothpaste, but probably isn't.

“Got bug bites all over me.” Dean grumbles, sliding onto the other side of the bed. He opens the tube and starts applying the white goop it contains to bites, but quickly becomes frustrated when he can't get the ones on his back.

Castiel, who has just been sitting there watching him like a weirdo, moves onto the bed to take the tube from Dean.

“I got it.” He tells the man.

Dean watches him sleepily as he squeezes out some of the goop to smooth over the bites on his back. He sighs. “Thanks, Cas.”

“No problem.” Castiel purses his lips as his headache comes back full force. “Um. Can i sleep in here, or did you want me to-”

“Yeah!” Dean says quickly, waking up for a moment. “Yeah, you can stay in here.”

Castiel finishes Dean's back, and Dean puts the tube on his side table, before sliding under the covers. Castiel does the same, and finds himself quickly pulled into Dean's embrace. The other man is warm now, and smells clean. He wraps his arms around Castiel's middle, and tucks Castiel's head beneath his chin.

“G'night.” He mumbles, despite the fact that it's technically morning now.

“Night.” Castiel agrees. They fall back asleep.

 

The second time Castiel wakes is almost worse than the first, because this time he's not half asleep, so he's awake enough to know that he _must be fucking dying_. Everything hurts, _everything_. His muscles are screaming in agony.

Slightly better, however, is the pounding in his head, which has lessened from a endless roar to a dull throbbing. Also, he's wearing clean clothes, so that's a plus. And he's in a bed, which is an improvement from last time. So, really, he's doing better all around than he was before.

He yawns and stretches, and then, once again, finds his stomach rolling. The nearest thing he can find is a little trash can that sits next to the bed, and he grabs it. He vomits into the trash can twice, laying half on and half off of the bed. There's no food in him anymore, so he's not really sure what's even coming out of him at this point, but there's no way he's going to look and see.

He's still heaving into the trash can when he hears the blankets rustle behind him, and a big, warm hand is on his lower back.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Castiel shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut and spitting into the trash can. “I'm dying.” He groans.

“Here.” Dean says, reaching over him to get to the glass of water that's still sitting on the bedside table from earlier. “Sip this.”

“Why do you have two bedside tables?” Castiel grumbles, before vomiting again.

When he's done he takes the water, it does help wash the taste of puke out of his mouth, but does nothing for the rest of him.

Castiel flops back down onto his stomach, wining pathetically and wishing he were asleep.

Dean moves closer, slipping his hand under the edge of Castiel's shirt and rubbing gently at the muscles of his lower back. It feels good, actually. It feels really good.

Castiel sighs, feeling himself relax before he even realizes it. He knows that there are things they need to talk about, big, elephant sized things. But it's all very complicated and tangled up in his head, which still hurts a lot, and the press of Dean's fingers against his back is just _so_ nice. He'll think about it later, he decides. Not now.

He turns his face toward Dean, and opens his eyes just enough to see the man looking at back down at him.

“Thanks.” Says Castiel.

“Hmm. No problem.” Dean replies. “You drank a lot for your first time.”

“Go big or go home.” Castiel says weakly.

“Well, you went big.” Dean says, and then he gets quiet. “You, uh. You remember... what, uh, what happened? Last night?”

“Yeah.” Castiel says simply.

Dean lets out a breath. “Oh. Okay. Is that, um, is that good?”

It's odd, hearing Dean so flustered. He's normally so confident. Strangely enough, it puts Castiel at ease. Dean doesn't know what he's doing either, he's just as unsure about all of this as Castiel is. Maybe he's just as terrified too. Probably not, but maybe.

“Yeah,” Castiel says finally, gathering up all the courage he has and laying it out. “I think so.” He looks up at Dean, who is looking back at him, hopefully.

Castiel gives him a cautious little smile, and Dean grins back at him. “Yeah?”

Castiel nods, sealing it, and smiles even bigger. “Well, alright.” He says happily, before leaning down toward Castiel. He's going to kiss him, Castiel realizes, turning his face upward to meet Dean.

They're almost there, close enough for their noses to brush, and for Castiel to smell Dean's morning breath, which isn't great.

And then...

Someone knocks loudly on the bedroom door.

“God _fucking_ dammit.” Says Dean, sitting up, looking defeated. “What?!” He yells at the door.

The door swings open, and Gabriel pokes his head in. Of course it's Gabriel.

“ _There_ you are!” Gabriel sighs, sounding relieved. “I don't know why I didn't look in here first, you're _always_ in here!” He throws his hands up dramatically. He doesn't seem to notice the odd position the two of them are in, Castiel on his belly and Dean leaning over him, which is just fine.

“Is that all?” Dean asks, frustrated.

“Oh!” Gabriel straightens up. “I gotta go! I've got to open the shop in like an hour. You coming?”

“I'll bring him later.” Dean says, then stops and looks down at Castiel. “If, uh, that's okay with you, I mean.”

Castiel nods, secretly very pleased. Maybe he and Dean can talk. Or maybe he can go back to sleep. Either one would work.

Gabriel shrugs. “Okay. Well I'll see you guys later.” He waves and disappears, leaving the door wide open.

Dean stares at the door and sighs. “It's _always_ Gabriel.”

“Mmph.” Castiel says in agreeance.

“Maybe we should get up.” Dean muses.

“Nooooooooo.” Castiel whines. “We should go back to sleep. It's like, late. At night. Time for sleeping.”

Beside him, Dean laughs. “Dude it's almost noon.”

“ _You're_ almost noon.” Castiel counters.

Dean sighs. “Yep. You're totally right.” Castiel can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes his stomach squirm, but not in a bad way. “I _am_ almost noon. But, unfortunately, it's totally time to get up.”

“You're not the boss of me.” Castiel grumbles into his pillow.

“I'll make you breakfast.” Dean coaxes.

Castiel peeks up at him. “If we stay in bed you could give me a back-rub.” He says, slyly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “How is that supposed to be incentive for me?”

Castiel shrugs nonchalantly. “I just know how much you enjoyed the last one.” He says.

Holy shit, he just said that. He _cannot_ believe he just said that. Did he suddenly grow guts overnight? Is this what flirting is? Did he just _get_ flirting?

Whatever the reason for his sudden, momentary burst of confidence, it's worth it. Because Dean goes bright red, which doesn't happen very often, and he sputters.

“Ah, haha. Um.” He clears his throat and throws his legs over his side of the bed, getting to his feet. “We should get up.”

Castiel sighs, knowing he's not going to win this. “Are you still going to make me breakfast?” He asks tiredly.

Dean comes around the bed to help Castiel haul himself to his feet. “Yeah, I'll make you breakfast.” He says, looping an arm around Castiel's middle to help him stay upright.

 

Castiel sits slumped over at the kitchen table while Dean makes breakfast. There's a glass of orange juice in front of him, but he's too tired to drink it. Also it hurts to move his fingers.

He's joined quickly by Charlie, who tells him that Gilda just left, and Balthazar. Both of them are looking a little worse for wear, but apparently Castiel is the only one who threw up this morning, so he seems to have won the, “Who Got The Drunkest?” contest.

Sam and Jess make it into the kitchen about five minutes after the rest of them, and Castiel can't help but notice that Jess is looking very smug, and Sam is sporting several purple bruises on his neck that certainly weren't there yesterday.

Balthazar is quick to point this out, and he's busy harassing Sam when Charlie scoots over to Castiel and puts her arm around his shoulder.

“You doin' okay?” She asks.

“I think I'm dead.” Castiel pouts.

Charlie nods, face serious. “You must have had a rough night last night. What with all the vampires.”

Castiel squints. He must have missed something. “Huh?”

“You know, the vampires.” Charlie's face is much too innocent now, and Castiel is beginning to suspect that something is up when she lowers her voice, “I mean, it must have been vampires. Because of all these...” She reaches up to poke at his neck. “Bite marks.”

Castiel freezes. He meets her eyes, and she's looking absolutely gleeful, in the way that a lion might seem gleeful, when it has a poor baby gazelle in its clutches.

“I mean,” She continues, which is really just cruel at this point. “What else could it have been? The only time you weren't with rest of us was when you were with, hmm, let me think,” She taps a finger on her chin, and then gasps theatrically. “Dean.” She raises her eyebrows and lets her eyes slide pointedly over to the man, who is currently at the stove cooking eggs, oblivious to the fact they've been found out by this devious creature.

“And _why_ would Dean bite you?” Charlie asks, smirking. “Did you get into some sort of... “tussle”?”

Castiel just stares at her, wide eyed, unable to think of a single thing to say for himself.

Then, suddenly, Dean is there, holding two plates of eggs. He takes one look at Castiel and Charlie, and his face grows wary. “What's up, guys?” He says cautiously.

“Oh, nothing.” Says Charlie. “Me and Cas were just talking about those _vampires_ you guys met last night.”

Dean, unlike Castiel, figures out where she's going with this immediately. He stills, and his cheeks begin to flush with color.

“Ha.” He says, tensely. “Haha. Very funny, Charlie. Here, have some _eggs_.” He shoves one of the plates at her. “Put them in your mouth and _stop talking_!” He whispers loudly.

The others, previously occupied, are now starting to notice the mini drama unfolding across the table from them.

“What's... going on?” Sam asks, taking in Castiel and Dean's tense postures, and Charlie's manic grin.

Dean opens his mouth, to say what, Castiel doesn't know. It doesn't matter, because before he get out a single word, Charlie jubilantly shouts,

“Cas has bite marks all over his neck!” Like it's the best news in then entire world.

Everyone goes very quiet. As one, the others look at Dean, who's standing there looking very caught, and then at Castiel, who happens to be wearing Dean's pajamas.

“Oh my god.” Says Sam.

“Ho _ly_ shit!” Balthazar exclaims.

Jess has the decency not to say anything, but she does grin at them.

“Oh my _god!_ ” Sam says again. “I _knew_ it! I _knew_ you'd get together! Didn't I tell you?!” He shouts at Charlie, who nods happily. “Ha! I _told_ you! Where's Gabe? He owes me money! That idiot! Told him!”

“There's... we haven't really... talked about it.” Dean mumbles weakly. He looks to Castiel and gives him a sheepish look, he mouths the word, _sorry_. It takes Castiel a moment to get that Dean isn't embarrassed of him, he's embarrassed of Sam bringing all of this up.

Castiel lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He was worried, he allows himself to admit now, that Dean not might want anyone to know about this... whatever it is that's between them. Not that Castiel is loving all of this pointing and shouting and fuss, because he's not, but he doesn't want to be a secret. It's odd, really, his warring instincts. There's a large part of him that wants to keep this to themselves, to hold the secret close so that nobody can look at it and say, _this is wrong_ , like he knows they will. But there's an equally large part of him that wants to tell everyone he comes across that Dean – lovely, wonderful, Dean – wants him. Dean wants Castiel, and how surreal is that?

Of course, they haven't talked about it. They haven't worked anything out, said anything outright. Maybe Castiel is counting his chickens too soon. But there's that feeling, that little spark in his soul that resonates with Dean so well, and there's Dean's smile, and the way Dean isn't denying a single thing. So Castiel might keep his cards close to his chest for the moment but he believes, in his heart, that this time – this time – he'll get what he wants. And what he wants is standing right there, holding a plate of eggs and wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt that's inside out. He wants Dean so badly that it becomes a physical pain in his heart.

Castiel just watches Dean for a while. He lets the noise filter out, and he watches as Sam continues to crow about how he was right all along, he watches Dean flush and shuffle his feet in a very un-Dean way, and he wants, with everything he has, to kiss him again. After a while, Dean notices him staring, and he smiles at Castiel, and comes to sit down beside him.

“Sorry.” He murmurs into Castiel's ear.

“It's okay.” Castiel tells him, because Dean has just put his arm around Castiel's waist, and he'd agree to just about anything right now, to be completely honest.

“We should'a stayed in bed.” Dean admits, sighing. “And I lost my other plate of eggs.”

“There's more eggs up there, Dean.” Castiel reminds him.

“I'm already sitting down.”

“Share these with me then.” Castiel tells him, then backtracks. “I mean- if you're comfortable with that. I get it if you're-”

“No, that- that's fine. I can share. I don't mind. I mean, it's not as if we haven't-” He clears his throat and whispers. “You know, shared saliva.”

“Dean,” Castiel whispers back. “I'm pretty sure it's not a secret.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Dean says, before getting up to grab a second fork.

Oddly enough, Castiel and Dean's drunken exploits last night only stay the center of attention for another few minutes, before Sam's short attention span takes the conversation elsewhere. Castiel, for one, is glad of the change of subject. He doesn't like to have the spotlight on him, even among friends. Eventually Charlie and Balthazar leave, and Sam and Jess retreat to Sam's bedroom, leaving Dean and Castiel alone once again.

Things aren't awkward, exactly, once the others are gone. They're just... different. A little tense, maybe. Castiel has no idea what to do next, where to go from here, what this even means, exactly. Apparently, neither does Dean. They're still sitting at the kitchen table. Castiel is pushing a few egg crumbles around his plate with a fork, and Dean is frowning into his glass of orange juice.

“So-” Says Dean.

“Okay-” Says Castiel, at the same moment.

They both stop. “You go.” Dean says, generously.

“Okay. Um.” Castiel starts. He's very nervous, and he can't look Dean in the eye. As much as he thinks Dean wants the same thing he does, this is still extremely nerve-wracking. “I mean. Was that, like, a one time thing, or is it a- a _thing_ now.” He stares hard at the table, willing himself to keep calm.

“I mean- I had fun. It was- yeah. I mean, didn't you?”

“Yeah!” Castiel says, finally looking up, finding Dean looking at him, uncharacteristically nervous. “I- it was- it was definitely fun.”

“So, do you want to do that, like,” He clears his throat. “Officially, or...?”

“Officially?” Castiel asks, confused.

“You know,” Dean says. “Date.”

“Oh.” Castiel breathes. He wasn't expecting Dean to just come out and say it.

“We don't have to!” Dean says hurriedly, misreading the look on Castiel's face. “I mean- just because we hooked up, that doesn't mean we're like, _obligated_ to date or anything. I just- i was just thinking about it- it's really no big deal.”

“Would you like to?” Castiel wonders. “To date... me?”

Dean looks at him for a moment, swallows, and says. “Yeah. I- yes. Yes, I would, Cas.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “I really like you. You're kind of my best friend. You know that, right?”

Castiel nods, unwilling to break the river of words now flowing from Dean's mouth, for fear that they might stop altogether.

“I've never been best friends with someone I wanted to date before.” Dean continues. “And it's weird. It's totally weird. But it- it feels _right_ to me, you know? And- and could you please say something because I'm kind of freaking out, here.”

He does, in fact, look terrified.

“I've never done this before.” Castiel reminds him, quietly, eyes going back to the table.

“That's okay.” Dean assures him, leaning forward. “I can- I can show you. Whatever you want. Or nothing. I don't want you to feel like you have to do... anything. Just because of last night.”

“Okay.” Castiel says, finally.

“Okay?”

Castiel nods. “I like you. And I want to, um, date you. Yeah. I want to try. For real.”

“Yeah? Okay. Okay. So, we're uh, we're dating now?”

“I... guess so.” Castiel says. He almost expected it to feel different once they were dating, like something about one or both of them would fundamentally change once it was official. But, of course, everything is still the same.

They sit in silence again, but this time, Castiel can't stop himself from grinning. He's just sitting there smiling down at his plate of eggs, and he's thankful no one else is around to see it. When he glances back up, he finds Dean looking at him, head tilted downward.

“Should we shake on it?” He asks, expression serious, extending his hand.

Castiel rolls his eyes and bats Dean's hand away, and the straight line of Dean's mouth gives way to a grin.

“Good _lord_.” Castiel sighs, feigning exasperation. “I can't believe I just agreed to date you.”

“You can't back out now.” Dean wags his finger at Castiel. “You agreed to it. You're stuck with me.”

“Um, I don't remember signing anything.” Castiel teases, surprised at how easy it is to fit this new part of their relationship into the old. He was afraid that it would feel weird, but so far it doesn't at all.

“And I didn't shake your hand. I don't think that's a very binding contract.”

“I was a verbal agreement.”

“Hmm.” Castiel says, pretending to think. “Nah.” He says finally.

Dean quickly holds out his hand again, but Castiel ignores it.

“Too late,” He kids. “I'm breaking up with you.”

“Aw, fuck.” Dean says, leaning back in his chair. “Well, we had a good run, at least. A whole two minutes.”

Castiel reaches over and pats Dean on the arm. “I will cherish those two minutes always.”

“Or... we could just keep dating.” Dean says, grinning.

“Oh, yeah!” Castiel replies happily. “Why didn't I think of that?”

Dean laughs, and Castiel laughs, squeezing Dean's arm on the table.

“You wanna... get something to eat?” Castiel asks.

“We just ate.” Dean reminds him. “But... we can watch a movie on the couch, maybe? I could get us a blanket and turn off the lights.”

“Yeah.” Castiel says, liking the sound of that quite a bit. “That sounds,” He swallows, unable to keep the nerves from wriggling in his stomach. “... very romantic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you guys know, Charlie was not trying to be malicious or anything. She is, occasionally, the kind of friend who likes to torture her friends... but in a loving way. 
> 
> P.S.  
> I put this up in a hurry, because i'm not supposed to be using the internet right now, so if you see any mistakes you should let me know, because I totally didn't proof-read this as well as I should have.
> 
> Hugs and kisses!


	21. Back On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place directly after the last, just fyi.
> 
>  **In this chapter:**  
>  \- the tender beginnings of a relationship  
> \- gabriel is feeling protective  
> \- lots of kissing

Cuddling is not an activity that Castiel has had a terrible lot of experience with. Any cuddling he _has_ experienced has been of the strictly platonic type.

Now, very suddenly, he's participation in some decidedly non-platonic cuddling.

It's nice, laying on the couch with Dean plastered to his back. He can understand why people like this sort of thing. It's like a very casual, long-lived hug. A hug where, sometimes, Castiel can feel Dean's dick against his ass. Alright, so that's a little awkward at first. Dean is very apologetic and Castiel blushes a lot. But Castiel is only noticing it in a sort of offhand way now. Anyway, he figures if he doesn't mention it neither will Dean, and then it won't be awkward.

Castiel sighs and re-adjusts his head on Dean's arm, which lays between Castiel's head and the couch.

“This movie is super messed up.” Castiel comments.

“'s good though, right?” Dean asks, breath tickling the back of Castiel's neck.

“I mean. I think so? It's just...”

“No, yeah. It's super fucked up.” Dean agrees. “But _damn_ Ryan Reynolds can act.”

“Hmm.” Castiel hums his agreement.

For a moment, things are quiet, and then Dean is nuzzling the back of Castiel's neck. It's an oddly sensitive spot, and Castiel finds himself shivering when Dean presses his lips there.

“You like that?” Dean asks, quietly, smoothing his hand down Castiel's arm.

“Feels nice.” Castiel tells him, trying to concentrate on the movie.

Dean continues kissing around Castiel's neck, until he comes upon reddened bite marks.

“Damn.” He says, brushing his thumb over the raised spots. “Bit you pretty hard, didn't I?”

Castiel huffs a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

“Sorry.” Dean says.

Castiel shakes his head. “If I remember right, I asked you to do it.”

He can feel Dean's grin against the back of his head. “You sure did. Didn't think you'd be so kinky.”

Castiel ducks his head in embarrassment as heat floods into his cheeks. Dean feels him tense, and says,

“I just totally freaked you out, didn't I?”

“Little bit.” Castiel whispers.

“Sorry.” Dean says, kissing his neck again. “Forgot you were raised in a monastery or whatever.”

Castiel turns his head to glare at Dean, and finds the man grinning. Before Castiel can turn his head back, Dean leans up and kisses him. It's the first time they've kissed since yesterday and it's so, so different. It's soft and slow, and the angle is awkward, but Castiel doesn't want to move and ruin the moment. As it turns out, he doesn't need to.

Dean breaks their kiss to prop himself up on his elbow, and pull Castiel down onto his back. Then he's leaning down and kissing Castiel again, and this position is much better, if a little scarier. With Dean above him, kissing him slowly, Castiel can feel the weight of it all. He can feel the press of Dean's desire, licking into his mouth, pressing his knee between Castiel's. It's so heavy, Castiel is having difficulty drawing a breath without shuddering. Dean's hands are roaming Castiel's sides, pressing against his ribs, his waist, his hips. They're sliding back to fit around the curve of Castiel's ass, and suddenly, he can't breath.

Castiel breaks their kiss and presses his hands against Dean's chest, gasping.

“Wait.” He pants. “Wait, stop!”

Dean pulls back, lips red, eyes confused. “What's wrong?” He asks.

Castiel shakes his head, shutting his eyes. “Sorry.” He breathes. “Sorry. Just. I guess I... I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. Sorry.”

“Hey, no.” Dean settles down next to him, and Castiel can feel his voice on the side of his face now. “It's alright. I- I was probably moving too fast. I forget- well, a lot of things. But I forget this is all new to you. And I guess I kinda forgot that _we're_ new too. You know? Feels like it's been so long coming, I forgot we've been together maybe an hour.”

“I don't know.” Castiel says, eyes still shut. “I didn't have any trouble last night.”

“You were massively drunk last night.” Dean reminds him gently. “And I probably shouldn't have- but I was drunk too.”

“Sorry.” Castiel says again.

Next to him, Dean shifts, getting more comfortable. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Okay.” Castiel says warily.

Dean clears his throat. “I had my first kiss when I was nine.” He begins. “It was with my neighbor Shelly. I got so nervous that I threw up right afterward.”

Castiel opens one eye. “You threw up?”

“I threw up. Hey, _don't laugh_. That shit was traumatizing.”

“Sorry.” Castiel works to control his expression.

“My first date, I was thirteen. It went really, really badly, and the girl never talked to me again.”

Castiel frowns. “What? That's mean.”

“Yeah, well, I accidentally spilled her _entire_ meal on her. So.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Dean lets out a long breath. “I was seventeen the first time I had sex with a girl. I was so scared that it took me an hour and a half to get it up. And, even then, it was _not_ good sex. Neither of us had any idea what we were doing.

“First time I had sex with a guy, I was nineteen.” He pauses, frowning. “He, um. I don't know, he went too fast. I'm not sure if he didn't know what he was doing, or maybe he just didn't care, but he didn't... he just went too fast. And I thought for sure that he knew the right way to do it, so I didn't say anything. But, uh, he hurt me.” Dean rubs at his nose. “Anyway, I guess my point is... sex can be scary, and I get that. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to.”

Castiel can't help himself from frowning up at Dean now, heart aching. “He hurt you?” He whispers.

Dean's face melts into something almost sad. “That totally wasn't the point.”

Castiel doesn't care. He doesn't care what the point was. He turns to face Dean and wraps his arms around Dean's torso, pulling him close. He can't believe that anyone, ever, would hurt Dean, and it makes a lump well up in his throat.

“It was a long time ago.” Dean tells him, face tucked into Castiel's hair.

“I just can't believe anyone would do that to you.” Castiel whispers. “Why would he do that?”

Dean moves his hands to tentatively stroke through Castiel's hair. “Some people are just like that.” He shrugs.

Castiel pulls back enough to kiss Dean on the cheek, stubble scratching his lips. “I know you'd never hurt me.” He admits. “I trust you. I just- I don't know.” He sighs, frustrated. “I'm afraid of so many things that don't make sense.”

“That's okay.” Dean tells him, brushing his nose against Castiel's.

“But, don't you... you know, want sex?” Castiel asks hesitantly.

To his surprise, Dean laughs. “Man, I’ve had a dry streak goin' on about a year and a half now. Just, work and everything's been so fuckin' stressful. It's not gonna hurt me to wait a little longer. I'm living proof that going without sex will not, in fact, kill you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but then finds himself looking nervously at Dean. “But... I mean,” He looks away, unable to ask the question while maintaining eye contact. “You do... _want_ to, right? I mean, you like me?”

“Are you kidding?”

Castiel shakes his head, still looking away.

Dean's fingers are brushing his chin, turning his face back. “Yeah, _I like you_. You're very, very handsome.” He leans forward and brushes his lips against Castiel's, just for a moment. “I am... _very_ attracted to you. But you're not- you're not just a hookup, you know? You're- you _mean something_ to me. You know that, right?”

Castiel nods, and Dean continues.

“You're my best friend. I know you. And- you don't need to be afraid, but also, you don't need to prove anything to me. I _know_ who you are.”

Castiel presses a hand to Dean's chest, overwhelmed. He can feel the steady blub of Dean's heart beneath his palm. “Okay.” Castiel whispers.

“Shit- are you crying?”

“ _You're_ crying.” Castiel sniffles, bending his face to press against Dean's chest alongside his hand.

“Hey, it's alright.” Dean runs his fingers through Castiel's dark hair.

They lay there for a while, Dean gently scratching Castiel's scalp, Castiel trying desperately to gather himself.

“How do you feel about pet names?” Dean asks after a while.

Castiel shrugs, glad Dean isn't making a big deal about his sudden emotional outburst. “Never been called any.” He says.

“Can I try?” Dean asks. “And if you don't like it you can tell me.”

“Sure.” Castiel says easily.

They watch the rest of the movie curled up quietly, Dean pressing chaste kisses into Castiel's hair.

 

-o-

 

Gabriel seems torn.

“I- I just-” Gabriel huffs, rubbing a hand over his face. “You're being safe, right?”

“ _Jesus_ , Gabriel! We haven't even done anything!” Castiel insists.

“Have you _seen_ your neck?” Gabriel gestures toward the offending body part.

Castiel slaps a hand over his neck, blushing brilliantly. “I, um. That was- I mean- we didn't have- I... I was really drunk.” He says weakly.

“Ahuh.” Says Gabriel, giving him a very pointed look.

“It was just the one time.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And we didn't- we didn't _have_... you know. _Sex._ ”

“Sure.”

“Don't look at me like that!”

Gabriel sighs and leans back in the kitchen chair. “I knew it was coming.” He admits. “I mean, christ, the way you guys are always _looking_ at each other. Just- ah man, I'm feeling _protective_ , or whatever. Promise you'll use a condom, okay?”

“Oh my god, fine, I promise.” Castiel says, hands covering his face.

“Okay,” Gabriel lets out a relieved breath. “Good.”

“Not that it's even gonna be an issue any time soon.” Castiel continues, unable to stop himself.

Gabriel says nothing, but raises an eyebrow.

“I get panicky.” Castiel explains. “Well. I mean, it's only happened the one time, but I bet it happens again. I want to do stuff with him, but it's scary, you know?”

Gabriel has a hand over his mouth, and an odd expression on his face. When he removes the hand, he says, “I _cannot_ believe this is happening to me.”

Castiel huffs. “Do you have any advice, or not?”

“Man, just take shit at your own pace, I guess? Everybody's comfortable with different things, takes different people different amounts of time to get comfortable with different things. So you're not fucking already, so what? You've been together like a day.”

“Yeah, but we've known each other for months!”

Gabriel shrugs. “Don't sweat it, man. You'll get there when you get there.”

“Is that it?”

“That's all I got.”

“Thanks _so much_ , Gabriel.” Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Any time.” Says his cousin.

 

-o-

 

Castiel has just finished dressing when there's a knock at the door. When he opens it, he finds Dean, grinning at him. He looks stunning, in dark jeans and a band t-shirt under his leather jacket.

“Hey, baby.” The man says.

Castiel grimaces and shakes his head. “Ah, no. I don't like that.”

“Noted.” Dean nods. “You guys ready to go?”

“I think so.” He turns to shout over his shoulder, “Gabriel! Are you ready?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Comes his cousin's voice, floating in from the other end of the apartment. “I'm comin', keep your damn pants on.”

Finally he comes out of his room, pulling on a jacket. “Alright, let's go.”

Sam and Jess are already in the car, snuggled close to each other in the back seat. Gabriel decides to climb into the front seat with Castiel and Dean, instead of being subjected to the sappiness that's happening behind them.

Next to Dean, Castiel wrings his hands nervously, twisting his fingers into the soft fabric of his jacket sleeves.

“Hey,” Dean says quietly, so that only Castiel can hear. “You don't need to be nervous, dude, it's just a show.”

“I've never been to see live music before.” Castiel whispers back, stomach is anxious knots.

“It's no big deal.” Dean assures him.

“But I don't know what to expect.” Castiel tries to explain. “What if I do something wrong?”

“You don't have to _do_ anything, man.” Gabriel chimes in, having obviously been eavesdropping. “You just listen to the music.”

“Well, yes, but-” Castiel sighs, and gives up. If they don't understand, then they won't understand. “Never mind.”

“Hey,” Dean says again, putting his hand on Castiel's thigh. “If you're worried about it, I’ll be right there. Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel exhales, the squirming ball of nerves in his stomach calming quite a bit from Dean's assurance. He can just watch Dean, it'll be okay. He's not going to do anything wrong.

 

The show is interesting, Castiel will admit. The band playing now is made up of five people in full gorilla costumes. How they're managing to play their instruments is beyond him.

Thing is, he can't tell if they're good or not. He feels like he's supposed to be able to, because he's heard other people commenting on this band, and the one before them, saying this and that, but he just can't figure it out. Here, in this small, underground building, it all just sounds like noise. The way everything is reverberating off of the concrete walls he can barely hear himself think, let alone make out the words of the songs.

Everyone else seems to be having a good time though. Sam and Jess are jumping up and down with much of the rest of the crowd, Dean is next to him, grinning madly and bobbing his head to the music. Gabriel is... someplace, getting into some sort of mischief, no doubt. They all seem to like it. Just one more thing that Castiel doesn't _quite_ understand, marking him as different, and not in a good way.

Besides the music that sounds like one long screech, there's too many people. They're all pressed up together in the relatively small space, smelling like beer and cologne and sweat, because it's _hot_ in here. Castiel can feel the press of panic closing on his chest, and he grabs Dean's hand.

“I'm gonna get some air.” He says.

“What?!” Dean shouts back, unable to hear him over the ruckus.

“I said I’m _getting some air_!” Castiel shouts this time.

Dean shakes his head, gesturing helplessly, clearly still unable to hear.

Castiel can't wait though, he can feel a panic attack coming on and he's not going to stand around and have it here. It's a little unusual that he can tell it's coming, anyway, and he'll be damned if he ignores it. He shrugs, hoping Dean figures it out, and pulls away. The presence of the crowd is overwhelming, the stink and the heat of them pressing all around him. It's so hard to get them to _move_ , especially for a small, plainly dressed boy who's just saying _excuse me_.

He gets out though, eventually, and just in time. He finds himself scrambling out the door and up the stairs to street level. Thankfully, there's no one out in the little grass clearing to see him fall to his knees and take heaving breaths, trying to get back to himself. After a while he presses his hands to the grass as well, and it helps, he's always liked the feel of the earth beneath his palms. He stops shaking eventually, heart rate and breathing returning to normal. Things are okay here, beneath the quiet night sky. He can, faintly, hear the band and the crowd, but it's not too much. Mostly, he hears crickets, and the long, forlorn croaking of frogs. Castiel wonders who's idea it was to have this show in a bunker in the middle of the woods, but feels vaguely thankful for it.

He sits there in silence for a while until he hears the door open, and for a moment he can hear the band and the crowd crystal clear before it shuts again. There's footsteps, and then a body settling down quite next to his.

“I've been looking for you.” Says Dean.

“I tried to tell you- but it was too loud.” Castiel explains.

Dean nods. “You okay?”

Castiel huffs a humorless laugh. “I can't enjoy anything. I panicked. I'm sorry.”

“'s not your fault.” Dean leans back, supporting his weight on his arms. “Nice night, anyway.”

“Yeah. Not as cold as I thought it would be.”

“All the damn global warming. Got us all fucked up.”

“I'm wasting your money.” Castiel says, apropos of nothing, still stuck in his own head.

“What?” Dean asks, sounding dazed.

“You payed for both our tickets, and we're not even watching the show. You can go back in, you know.”

“I know.” Says Dean, making no move to get up.

“Dean-” Castiel says.

“I like it out here.” Dean interrupts him. “It's nice. And you're here. It's just fine.”

“You wanted to see the band.”

“I wanted to see you more.”

Castiel ducks his head. “You see me all the time.”

“And it never gets old.” Dean leans over to bump their shoulders together gently.

Castiel rolls his eyes, cheeks flushing. “You're so sappy.”

Dean just looks at him. “Come on.” He says, climbing to his feet and holding out his hand.

“What?” Castiel wonders, taking it, letting himself be hauled up. “Where are we going?”

Dean says nothing, but leads him a little ways away, where cars are parked in haphazard rows over the trampled grass. They find the Impala and, to Castiel's great surprise, Dean climbs up onto the hood and pats the space beside him. Castiel follows him, clamoring over the metal and tucking himself against Dean's side, the man's arm around his shoulders.

“We can look at the stars.” Dean says.

“They're so much clearer out here.” Castiel replies, in awe. “It's so beautiful.”

They're both quiet for a few minutes, gazing up at the sky. Castiel doesn't know much about astronomy at all, he knows what the big dipper and the little dipper look like, and that's about it. But the sky is beautiful, he doesn't need to be able to name constellations to know that.

After a while Dean turns his head, pressing a kiss below Castiel's ear. Then another, and another, and when he starts nipping at Castiel's earlobe, the younger man huffs.

“So, when you said _look at the stars_ , did you really mean _make out_?” He asks.

Dean laughs softly, ducking his head to press against Castiel's shoulder. “Sorry.” He says.

“I'm not complaining.” Castiel explains, turning his head, nose brushing Dean's crown. “Just wondering.”

Dean lifts his head back up, and they're so close that their noses touch. “I mean, if you're not opposed to it...” Dean trails off. The arm he has around Castiel's shoulders squeezes a little tighter.

In answer, Castiel closes the scant inch between them, pressing his lips softly to Dean's. They kiss slowly, languid and unhurried. Dean opens his mouth and lets Castiel lick inside, groaning softly at the feel of Castiel's tongue on his bottom lip.

“You're a quick learner.” He murmurs, grinning, when they part for a moment.

Castiel shrugs, pleased and a little embarrassed by the praise.

“'m serious.” Dean tells him, running his mouth up the column of Castiel's throat. “You're so good.”

Castiel shivers at the touch on his neck, despite having promised himself he wouldn't. “You're just saying that because I’m the only one who'll kiss you.” He teases, distractedly.

“You're the only one I want to kiss anyway.” Dean says, laving his tongue into a _very sensitive_ spot just behind Castiel's ear.

“ _Oh_.” Castiel breathes as Dean's unoccupied hand comes up to his leg, ghosting his fingers over the inside of Castiel's thigh. “Dean we're- we're outside.” He protests, despite the voice in his head telling him to _shut the fuck up and let this happen, god_! “Someone's going to, um...” He loses his train of thought for a moment as Dean moves his mouth down again, pulling Castiel's shirt collar away to expose his shoulder. He drags his teeth across the tendons there. “Someone's going to- to see.” Castiel finishes, but it sounds weak even to him.

“So what?” Dean asks, and he bites down. It's not hard, but it has Castiel breaking out in goosebumps, and his dick starts to swell in his pants.

“Mmm.” Is Castiel's only response. He lets his eyes drift shut, and finally relaxes against the windshield.

“God, you _really_ like the biting, huh?” Dean sounds a little breathless, his fingers press more firmly into Castiel's thigh.

Castiel says nothing, he just lets himself relax as Dean kisses him on the mouth again. He can tell that Dean is getting worked up, he's leaning over Castiel more, deepening his kisses, hand kneading at Castiel's thigh, dick hard against Castiel's leg. Everything is good(very _very_ good) until, very suddenly, Castiel starts panicking again. He's feeling trapped, and his it's very hard to breathe.

He pushes hard at Dean's chest, gasping, “Stop!”

Dean leans back, dazed. “What is it?” he wonders.

“I...” Castiel can't find the words to finish his thought. Thankfully, Dean realizes.

“Oh, okay.” He says, leaning back, giving Castiel a little room.

Mortified and frustrated with himself again, Castiel lets his head clunk back onto the windshield. “Sorry.”

Dean looks thoughtful for a moment, then he asks, “Is it- I mean, do you panic whenever I’m like, leaning on you? Is that it?”

Castiel nods. “I think so.” He says weakly. “I just- I feel so _trapped_.”

“Have you, uh- I mean- what if you were on top?” Dean asks.

"What do you mean?" Castiel wonders.

“Uh, you know.” Dean says, looking slightly confused. “You. On top. Of me.”

“I guess we could try.” Castiel concedes. He's not terribly hopeful, but he's willing to give it a shot.

So Dean grabs Castiel's hips tight and rolls them both, until Castiel is lying on top of him. Castiel shifts, bracketing Dean's hips with his legs, straddling him. He puts his hands on the windshield, on either side of Dean's head. Here, above, with Dean beneath him and between his legs, Castiel feels a thrill untainted by fear. He leans down and kisses Dean again, and realizes that he's fine, this is fine. He's not afraid.

He kisses Dean harder, pressing him down with his body. Dean, unlike Castiel, seems fine with being pinned. In fact, when Castiel takes a breath he finds Dean grinning up at him, looking amused.

“You like being on top, sweetheart?” Dean asks, voice low and husky.

Castiel nods and quickly leans back in, he doesn't want to talk, he wants to kiss. And kiss, and kiss. He wants Dean's hands on him, all over. He wants...

_Oh_ . 

He wants Dean's hips rolling up, pressing their groins together, sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He gets his wish. 

“ _Yes_.” He gasps into Dean's mouth, unable to keep himself from rolling his hips down, mimicking Dean's movement.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Fuck_ yeah.”

Their teeth clatter against each other, lips pressed together bruisingly. Castiel has both hands in Dean's hair, pulling, nails scratching across scalp. Dean has one hands pressed to Castiel's chest beneath his shirt, one hand curled around the softness of his hip. 

Everything seems to be going very quickly, and, just the same, going very slowly, all at once. Everything is surreal, every point of contact between their bodies is like a shock, at least for Castiel. He feels lit up, from the inside out, he must be glowing. Maybe he's on fire.

When Dean slips a hand in between them to brush over Castiel's swollen cock, he pulls back, hissing,

“Not _here_! I'm not a damn _exhibitionist_!”

“There's no one around.” Dean murmurs plaintively, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes.

It's tough, it's really tough, and Castiel can't  _quite_ remember why he's not letting Dean have his way right here on the hood of the impala, but he stands firm. 

“Not this time.” He says, which, okay, doesn't really sound that final. But in Castiel's defense, he's really hard and he's having a lot of trouble thinking. He just knows that he probably shouldn't expose any poor unsuspecting strangers to his dick. 

Dean pouts a little, but he doesn't push it. He moves his hand away from Castiel's groin, slides it up his body to cup his cheek instead. 

“What about in the car?” He asks, hopefully. “We could get in the back seat.”

For a moment, a very – very – brief moment, Castiel thinks  _yeah okay, they’ll work_ before he remembers that  _no, it wont!_

“We're not doing that.” Castiel says, after taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Why not?” Dean wonders, sounding for all the world like a child who's been told that he can't play with his favorite toy.

“Because- for one, someone might see us anyway. Two, we have to drive in this car later, with other people. And three, we'll make a mess. Do you want a mess in your car?”

“No.” Dean sighs, pouting.

“I know.” Says Castiel. He sits up, stretches, and climbs off of Dean's lap. As fun as this has been, he wants to calm down before the show ends and everyone else comes pouring out. He settles down next to Dean, leaning into his side. Dean wraps an easy arm around his shoulders, despite the fact that he's pressing the heel of his hand into his dick with the other.

“You're just gonna make it worse.” Castiel whispers.

Dean grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _fuck you_ , but he stops palming his dick, letting his head fall back onto the glass instead.

“Thanks for coming tonight.” He says after a while, which is not what Castiel expected.

“You invited me.”

“Well, yeah. But I know you were nervous about it. And I know it didn't really turn out well. But I'm glad you came.”

“Me too.” Castiel tells him, leaning his head against Dean's broad shoulder. “Actually, this is really nice. I got to go the countryside and looks at the stars with my boyfriend. I'd say it's a successful night.”

There's a long beat of quiet, and then, “So I’m your boyfriend now, am I?”

Castiel tilts his head up to look at Dean, suddenly very worried that he's misspoke, but he finds the man grinning down at him.

“If you want to be.” Castiel tells him, trying to sound casual.

“Course I wanna be, asshole.”

“Hey! Be nice to me, we're boyfriends now. That means you have to be nice.”

“We were already dating, so technically we were already boyfriends. You haven’t been nice to me, so I don't have to be nice to you.” Dean teases.

“I _am so_ nice!” Castiel objects, scowling. “Say I’m nice!” He pokes Dean in the stomach.

Dean snorts. “Lies.”

“You are _such_ a jerk.”

Dean just wraps his other arm around Castiel too, pulling him close and burying his face in Castiel's neck. “You like me though.” He says.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I _guess_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The List So Far](http://frecklesandsky.tumblr.com/list-chap21)


	22. Hipster Sweaters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this isn't a very long chapter, and I didn't upload one last week. I'm very sorry. I'm currently moving house and with that + work I have about zero time for writing. Hopefully the house will be done soon and I can get back to my regular schedule.  
> Anyway, to make up for it, i've written blowjobs.

  October comes quicker than Castiel expects, and before he knows it there are plastic skeletons and fall themed wreathes up everywhere, nary a building or door without some form of decoration. It's a little startling, honestly. His parents never allowed him to participate in the holiday.

Gabriel, however, embraces it wholeheartedly. Their apartment is covered in fake skeletons, plastic pumpkins, cheap fabric ghosts. They now have a bright orange clock that makes “spooky ghost” noises very loudly every hour on the hour, and a huge bowl of disgustingly sweet candy-corn on their crappy coffee table.

Castiel loves it. He can't get enough. He's bought about twenty pumpkin scented candles since the start of fall, he keeps picking up novelty coasters with owls and cartoon bones, and _pumpkin spice_. He's been told, by Gabriel and Dean and even Balthazar, that pumpkin spice is a drink for “white girls with small dogs” with which Castiel disagrees wholeheartedly. Pumpkin spice is a wonderful, delicious invention that should be enjoyed by all. He tries pumpkin spice lattes and pumpkin spice frappaccinos, pumpkin spice milkshakes and pumpkin spice pancakes. Any food with pumpkin in the name, he gets into his mouth as fast as he possibly can.

Gabriel thinks this is just absolutely _hilarious_ , of course, but that does nothing to dissuade Castiel's taste-buds.

And sweaters! Never before has Castiel been able to explore his love of sweaters. He gets them from thrift shops for mere dollars, secondhand stores, yard sales looked after by elderly ladies with tightly curled gray hair. He likes them a little big, so he can hide his hands in his sleeves to keep them warm. Balthazar goes yardsaling with him, picking up trinkets and flirting with the old ladies. Sometimes Charlie comes with them to look for old comics and records. She's such a calm, soothing presence, contrasting Balthazar's harsh edges and loud voice.

Eventually, Castiel convinces Dean to come with him, which is an impressive feat, as the man maintains that going for expensive coffee and then hunting through secondhand junk is too “hipster”. Castiel basically forces a pumpkin spice latte on his boyfriend, who scowls but then downs the whole thing and half of Castiel's.

“Dean!” Castiel chastises. “You said you wanted a _sip_!”

“Oh,” Dean says, looking dazedly down at Castiel's now empty cup, clutched in his hand. “Um...” He looks up and grins sheepishly. “I didn't realize.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth pull upward involuntarily. “It's okay,” He says. “But you're buying next time.”

When he looks back over at Dean, he finds him smiling.

“What?” Castiel asks him.

Dean shakes his head, looking down. “I like it when you're bossy.” He says, amusement coloring his tone.

Castiel huffs, a bit embarrassed, hoping to heaven that he's not blushing right now, but knowing he probably is.

“Come on.” He says, taking Dean by the hand and dragging him into a store that looks as though it was probably built in the seventies. There's a lot of dust, but there's also a lot of really cool stuff and Castiel enjoys looking at it. They peruse old jewelry, trinkets, and books. They follow the shelves so far back in the store that Castiel can't even see the exit anymore. It's quiet, and he wonders irrationally for a moment if they haven’t somehow crossed into another dimension. Then he sees the section of secondhand clothes and, sure enough, they have several old sweaters with ugly zig-zag patterns in garish colors. They're perfect. He drags all of them up to the front where a tiny old woman looks at them through glasses with lenses the size of grapefruits.

“Hmm,” Says the little old woman, voice barely above a whisper. “You know, if you're interested in the sweaters, I have a box of them in the back that we havnt been able to sell. Hmm. I'll let you look, if you like.”

“Oh!” Castiel brightens. “That would be great, thank you!”

“Hmm.” Says the woman. “You stay put. I'll be right back.” She slips out from behind the counter and walks unsteadily back into the depths of the store.

“Dude. This is fuckin' weird.” Dean observes.

“They usually are.” Castiel counters. “Isn't it great?”

“Eh.”

“Hmm.” They hear, as the old woman comes shuffling back with an enormous box that obscures her entirely. She sets it on the counter and gesture to it.

It's the jackpot. It's absolutely full of sweaters, soft old ones. Castiel sees one that definitely has reindeer on it.

“How much?” He wonders.

The woman sniffs. “Eh, ten dollars for all of it.” She decides.

“Yes!” Castiel agrees, reaching for his wallet. “I'll take it!”

“I got it.” Dean intercepts, handing a ten dollar bill to the old lady before Castiel can get his money out.

Castiel starts to protest, but Dean just raises an eyebrow and picks up the box of sweaters. “You comin'?”

The sweaters are more than Castiel could have ever hoped for. In the car he puts two of them on, one over top of the other, and Dean laughs at him until he chokes.

 

“So, me and Sam are thinkin' about having, like, a Halloween party.” Dean says later, when they're curled up on the Winchester's couch.

“Halloween party?” The words are foreign in Castiel's mouth.

“Yeah. Not, like, a lot of people or anything. Just our group, maybe Charlie and Balthazar.”

Castiel sits up, interested. “I've never been to a Halloween party before.”

“You haven’t?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I've never celebrated Halloween at all.”

“You're fucking with me.”

“Nope. Wasn't allowed.”

Dean sits up now too, looking intently at his boyfriend. “We're gonna give you the best goddamn Halloween ever. You wanna dress up? We'll dress the fuck up! We can be, uh, Bert and Ernie.”

Castiel laughs. “The Tick and Arthur.”

“Swamp Thing and uh... the Loch Ness Monster?”

Castiel grins. “Perfect.” He says.

“Should we buy costumes or try and make them?”

“How are we going to _make_ a Loch Ness Monster costume?”

“We're creative, we'll figure it out!”

Castiel snorts. “We're not creative.”

“We are _so_ creative!” Dean insists. “Who fixed the coffee table that one time?”

“Gabriel.” Castiel reminds him.

“Okay. Um. What about that time the tv broke-”

“That was Sam.”

“We helped Charlie make those costumes for her LARPing group!”

“We made a mess. If you'll remember, Jess showed up and saved our asses by fixing everything.”

Dean's face lights up. “So we get Jess to make 'em for us!”

Castiel thinks about it a moment. “I think we should make them.” He says finally. “I'll be fun.”

“But you _just_ said-”

“They're probably going to suck, but I want to.”

Dean smiles at him... then rolls his eyes. “You sappy dork.”

“Rude!” Castiel pokes him in the arm. “ _You're_ a sappy dork.”

“And it's all your fault.” Dean says, reaching up to cup Castiel's cheek, leaning in to kiss him softly on the mouth.

“No way!” Castiel says petulantly, breaking away from their kiss. “You were like that before!”

“Shush.” Dean tells him, kissing him again.

“I will not _shush_! Don't tell me to shush.”

Dean laughs, and presses his forehead against Castiel's. “Yes, Dear.” He says.

Castiel is quiet for a moment. “That one's okay.” He says softly.

“Mmkay, Pumpkin.”

“Cheesy.”

“You like cheesy.”

“Well I like you, so i'd have to, wouldn't I?”

“Ow.” Dean puts a hand over his heart. “That one hurt, Pumpkin. Right here.” He points to his heart.

Castiel rolls his eyes and Dean kisses him again.

“Don't use it _too much_.” Castiel tells him.

“Pumpkin, pumpkin, pumpkin.” Dean says, kissing him on the nose.  
“Ew.”

Dean kisses him on the cheek, on his jaw. Castiel is laughing softly until Dean starts sucking on his ear.

“Oh.” He breathes, letting his eyes drift shut, concentrating on the sinful slip of the tongue on his skin. Dean slips his arms around Castiel's middle and pulls him close, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Castiel's neck.

Every nerve in Castiel's body is at attention, he can feel every brush of Dean's lips up and down the column of his throat, to his chin, to his lips. There's a heavy sense of anticipation about the whole thing that Castiel hasn't really felt before, and he can tell something is going to happen before Dean even speaks.

“Cas?” He says, voice low and husky.

“Hmm?”

“Can I-” He stops, takes a breath, runs a hand up Castiel's hip. “Can I suck you off?”

Castiel stills. He can feel his heartbeat speed, his breath quicken. He wants this- _god_ he wants this, but it's scary. This isn’t like anything he's ever done before, ever experienced. He closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath, remind himself that he _trusts_ Dean. He knows Dean. He wants to let Dean touch him in ways no one ever has before, know him like no one else does.

“Okay.” He whispers.

“Hey- I mean. You can tell me to fuck off, you know?” Dean says. “If you don't want to. I'm not, like-”

“No.” Castiel interrupts. “I- I mean, I want to. I want you too. I'm just... a little nervous.”

“We'll go slow. Okay?”  
Castiel sighs and nods. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax as Dean mouths slowly at his neck, dragging his tongue along a vein, murmuring into his skin.

Up his neck, Dean moves, hands slipping under Castiel's sweater and pressing it up under his arms. Kisses peppered over his chest leave Castiel shivering, Dean's lips are soft on his ticklish ribs. Goosebumps come when Dean's nose brushes over Castiel's right nipple, when he lets his breath ghost over.

It's enough to make his head spin, his fingers clench in the fabric of the couch. To be touched this way is still so new. To have someone _want_ to touch him this way is... baffling, to say the very least. He can't get over it, and he hopes he never will. Every touch is a miracle. Like lightning, every one of them, they're so intense.

Dean's lips close around the tightened bud, and they're nothing to stop the whimper from slipping between Castiel's lips. Pressure, as he sucks, tiny pin-points of almost-pain as he nips. It's almost nothing, but it has Castiel half-hard in his jeans, aching for more of it.

The kisses to the soft flesh of his stomach startles a laugh out of him. It tickles like hell, but it sort of feels nice too, and Dean's tongue curling into his belly-button is even nicer.

Castiel tries to steady himself, to calm down, to regulate his breathing, but it isn't happening. His heart is beating hummingbird-wing fast, but he's not scared. Well, he _is_ scared, but not in the usual way. He doesn't want to run, he _wants_ to see what happens next.

As it happens, what happens next is that goes down just a _bit_ lower, and starts mouthing at Castiel's dick through his jeans.

“Fuck!” Castiel curses, unable to contain himself, digging his nails into the couch cushions.

Dean laughs quietly. “Remember when you didn't cuss?”

“That was- ah! A long- long time ago.”

“Not that long.”

Castiel finds it in him, somehow, to glare down at Dean, who grins up at him and plucks at his waistband.

“Why don't you take these off for me.” He suggests.

Castiel nods, breath ragged. He gets shakily to his feet long enough to unbutton his pants and shove them, along with his boxers, off of his legs and onto the floor, before collapsing back onto the couch. He doesn't much think about the picture he might make, splayed out on the sofa, naked but for a blue sweater with silhouettes of dogs all over it pushed up to his armpits. His cock is hard and flushed red, bobbing up toward his stomach.

He's never felt so exposed before in his life, he's never _been_ so exposed before in his life. He wants to close his eyes, but he cant, because the way Dean is looking at him has him hypnotized. His eyes are hungry and wanting, his lips are parted, his breath is coming quickly. In short, he looks the way Castiel feels.

“I'm gonna-” Dean starts, licks his lips, starts again. “I'm gonna do it now, okay? If- if I do somethin' you don't like, you- you just let me know. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Castiel nods too, for good measure.

Dean's hands are at his hips, until they're not, then one is at his waist and one is wrapping sweetly around his cock.

Castiel bites his lip, watching as Dean shifts down on the couch, lowering himself until he's right there and Castiel can feel his breath over the head. Dean leans forward to press his lips to the base, and Castiel forgets what he was ever nervous about in the first place.

Dean licks up the shaft, wraps his lips around the head, and starts to gently suck.

“Oh my god.” Castiel gasps, unable to keep himself from grasping Dean's shoulder.

Dean pulls off for a moment, looking up him. “Good or bad?”

“Good!” Castiel rushes to assure him. “Good.”

Dean smiles at him, and leans back down. He's good, he's so good. Sure, Castiel doesn't have much experience here, but he's pretty sure that Dean is _very_ good at this. It's taking all his concentration, in fact, not to come already, which might be more embarrassing if it weren't for the absolutely sinful noises his boyfriend is making around the dick in his mouth.

He's aware of Dean taking a deep breath through his nose, but doesn't think anything of it until he's sucking Castiel in even more, sliding down his length until his nose is pressed into the curly hair at Castiel's base. It's so warm, the pressure and the suction so perfect, he starts to bob his head, and that's all she wrote.

“Fuck!” Castiel spits, tensing. Dean, realizing what's happening, pulls off quickly, but takes up the steady rhythm with his hand instead, working Castiel through his orgasm.

It's bliss, it's perfection. Dean's head resting on his sweaty thigh, softening cock in his hand.

“Aw, man.” Dean says after a minute, looking down at where some of Castiel's come has dribbled onto the couch. “Sam's gonna _kill_ me.”


	23. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end. I'm sorry it happened so abruptly, I meant to keep it going longer, but I started on this chapter and realized I just didn't have anywhere else I wanted to go with it.  
> Thank you all for reading, for putting up with my non-schedule and my shitting planning and writing.  
> I love you guys, thank you for all the kudos and the comments, you have no idea how much they helped when I was having a bad day or feeling shitty about my writing. 
> 
>  
> 
> In this chapter:  
> \- sexy sex  
> \- the "L" word  
> \- stray kitten  
> \- the beginning of something great

Halloween night is chilly, but that doesn't stop the hordes of children clamoring through the streets while there's still light and, later on, groups of gangly teens in too-small costumes. Castiel has painted himself green, he's wearing a green shirt and green pants, he has several felt flippers sewn to his shirt. He is possibly the worst Loch Ness monster in history and he's having an absolute blast.

He and Gabriel (who is dressed as the Greek god Hermes) walk to Dean's, dodging shrieking toddlers and piles of abandoned candy. They're greeted at the door by Dean, who seems to be wearing a bush. He takes one look at Castiel and bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god!” He says. “I thought _my_ costume was bad.”

“ _Excuse me_!” Castiel frowns, hands on his hips. “Have you ever seen the Loch Ness monster? I don't think so. For all you know, this is an extremely accurate representation. So how about you keep your comments to yourself, Mr. shrub.”

“Hey, it's a ghillie suit, and I look exactly like Swamp thing, so suck it.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You just bought that from the store, didn't you?”

“... Yes.” Dean admits. “But it looks good, doesn't it?”

“Cheater.” Castiel accuses, pressing past him into the apartment with Gabriel on his heels.

Charlie (Captain Kirk) is on the couch snuggled up with Gilda (Spock). Balthazar is not wearing a costume, but Sam has on a fake beard and a hat, Castiel isn't sure who he's supposed to be, and Jess is Edward Scissorhands, complete with plastic butter-knives taped to her fingers.

They all go out trick-or-treating, and they get a lot of weird looks because they're all adults, but Castiel doesn't care one bit. When they get back they dump all their candy on the floor and they eat it until they're sick to their stomachs.

 

“What are you going to do when Sam is gone?” Castiel asks Dean later on. They're alone, curled up in Dean's bed. Castiel is aware that it's a delicate question. It might upset Dean, but he wants to know. This is something they don't talk about.

There's a long pause, and then Dean says,

“I don't know.” He sighs. “I don't know.”

“You'll be okay.” Castiel tells him, turning his head to press a kiss to Dean's temple. “You won't be alone.”

“Yeah.” Dean agrees. “I guess that's true. I have you now.”

“You have me now.”

Dean presses his face into Castiel's hair and pulls him closer. He kisses Castiel's forehead, his eyebrow, his nose, his mouth. They breathe each other in for a moment, then Dean kisses him softly on the mouth again, and again.

There's something still achingly sad in Dean's expression and Castiel can't stand it, he doesn't want to see Dean's face marred by sadness, and so he presses Dean down and climbs atop him. He strips off his shirt and lets Dean's hands roam his torso.

“Cas...” Dean says, still sounding sad.

“Hush.” Castiel tells him, pulling at the hem of Dean's shirt until the man sits up and lets it be stripped off of him.

“Are you sure you want to?” Dean whispers, because somehow he knows.

“Yes.”

He strips his own pants and boxers off and then he and Dean work together on the other man's. Then they're naked, both of them, completely. It's a little awkward, but Castiel is enamored of the planes of Dean's body and he can only stop himself from touching for a few moments.

He trails his fingers up the lines of Dean's ribs, laughing when the man squirms. He rubs cautious fingers over the tight nubs of Dean's nipples.

Dean watches fondly as Castiel moves lower, until he finally wraps his hand around Dean's erection. A sigh slips from Dean's parted lips as Castiel gives a tug.

Dean's skin is soft and smooth and warm, and Castiel explores it at length. He runs his lips down it's length, feels Dean's balls in his hand, presses kisses up and down, here and there. Finally, he opens his mouth and swallows Dean down. He's not very good at it, Dean's dick feels too big in his mouth, and he's sure he's getting teeth, but it doesn't seem to matter too much.

After a while he sits back up, and Dean kisses him even though he still must have the taste of dick in his mouth. Castiel leans over and rifles through Dean's bedside table where he knows there's a bottle of lube. When he finds it he presses it into Dean's palm and says,

“You'll have to help me.”

They've never done this before, but Castiel feels like now is the time.

So Dean works him open. Very slowly, barely pressing his finger in at all at first. Castiel is glad he goes slow, because it's really fucking weird at first. There's a _finger_ in him. A _finger_. It's not pleasant, and that finger feels very distinctly like it is _not_ supposed to be there, but he closes his eyes and breathes through it and after a while it doesn't feel so weird anymore. Of course, then Dean adds another finger and the process starts all over again. It's not painful though, because Dean is careful, just weird. After a while it doesn't feel too bad, he's panting into Dean's mouth, sweat drips down his back and pools behind his knees. It's a surprise, to say the least, when Dean twists his fingers and pleasure bursts through Castiel's body.

“Oh!” He gasps. “Oh _shit_!”

Dean grins up at him, his own forehead shining with perspiration. “Right there?” He asks, and he does it again.

“Fucking _christ_!” Castiel growls.

“Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say.”

He presses his fingers in a few more times before pulling them out. “Okay, so, you ready?” He asks breathlessly, reaching blindly for a condom in the bedside table.

Castiel nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

Dean opens the foil, slips the rubber on, and lines up, head of his cock pressing agianst Castiel's hole. “Okay, take a deep breath.” He instructs.

Castiel does, and he's glad because as soon as Dean starts pressing in all of his breath goes out in a rush.

“You okay?” Dean asks him.

Castiel nods, gritting his teeth. It doesn't hurt much, but it does feel very uncomfortable again. Dean holds tight to Castiel's hips and keeps very still until Castiel relaxes before pressing in just a little more. It goes on like this for a while, until Castiel is fully seated, and after a few minutes more it doesn't hurt at all.

“Okay.” He tells Dean, wiggling on his lap. “I think I’m good.”

Dean nods, and very slowly he begins to move his hips in little circles. Castiel leans down to kiss Dean, licking into his mouth while the man rocks into him.

The whole thing is odd and surreal, and nothing like he'd thought it would be. It didn't start because they were overcome with lust, tearing each other's clothes off. It started because Dean needed comfort, and it felt like the right time. It's not perfect, and it's not pretty. Castiel's arms are aching from holding himself up, his legs are cramping, they're sweaty and their skin sticks together in places.

But Castiel looks into Dean's eyes and he sees so much love, and it's nothing he ever expected. He didn't think anyone would ever look at him like that. He's never thought anyone would ever want to touch him this way. He wants to do this forever, he wants to cry, it's absolutely wonderful.

Dean shifts, releasing Castiel's hip with one hand and shifting it between them to wrap around his boyfriend's dick. His hand must be hurting by now, but he jerks Castiel off slowly, steadily, holding his gaze.

Castiel comes first, overwhelmed by everything that's happening. He slumps over Dean, trying to catch his breath and keep the tears from from his eyes as the other man continues to roll his hips. After a few moments, Dean comes too, and they're both still.

Dean turns his head to kiss Castiel, and sees his eyes wet.

“Oh fuck,” He says, voice immediately concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” Castiel assures him, smiling, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It's, um,” He laughs. “They're- they're good tears. I'm sorry. I'm just- I’m a mess.” He sniffs. “I just... I kinda love you?” He bites his bottom lip, aware that after sex is maybe not the best time to say it. But he means it, he means it so much.

Dean stares up at him, face unreadable. He swallows visibly, sweat rolling down the column of his neck. “Yeah.” He says finally. “Yeah, me, uh. Me too. I- um. I love you... too.”

Castiel looks down at him fondly until his arms give out and he lays back down on Dean's chest, and Dean wraps his arms around Castiel's sweaty torso.

 

 

-o-

 

“What the _fuck_ is this?” Gabriel asks, picking up the fuzzy black thing from the couch.

“Um,” Castiel answers guiltily from the kitchen doorway.

“Mew.” Says the little black thing, squirming in Gabriel's hand.

“No.” Says Gabriel.

“He was all alone!” Castiel protests. “I found him in a _ditch_! He was all by himself and look at him, Gabriel, he's too little to take care of himself!” He moves into the living room and gently extricates the kitten from Gabriel's hands.

“Well I don't do pets. And anyway i'm allergic.”

“But Gabriel-”

“Man, no. Come on. Come on, man. Don't do this.”

They're saved from further argument by a knock at the door. It's Dean, who sees the kitten and immediately goes to pet it.

“Hey there, cutie.” He coos. “Aren’t you just a sweetheart? Yeah you are.” He scratches the kitten's head, and it starts to purr. “Who's cat?”

“No one's.” Gabriel says. “You want it?”

Castiel scowls. “I found him in a ditch. Gabriel says I can't keep him.”

“He can't be on his own, he's too little!” Dean says.

“That's what I said!”

Dean thinks for a moment. “I can take him.” He says. “I've been- I mean, it's been kind of quiet in the apartment since Sam left. Maybe this little guy'll liven things up.”

Sam has been gone about two weeks now and, all in all, Dean is taking it better than Castiel expected. But he's been doing his best to keep Dean distracted.

“Then I can visit him!” Castiel agrees. “Will you really take him?”

“You know what, yeah. Yeah, I’ll take him. He's a cutie.”

And so, Dean's apartment gains a new tenant, and Pancakes The Cat gets a home.

 

-o-

 

“Oh. My. God.” Castiel says, coming into Dean's room and shutting the door behind him. Dean and Pancakes both look up from where they're curled up on the bed. “I just walked in on Sam and Jess going at it. And, on an unrelated note, I am never leaving this room again.”

Sam is back for Spring Break, and he and Jess apparently have a lot of catching up to do.

“Dude. They've been fucking like non-stop since he got back. Don't you knock?”

“The _door was open_!” Castiel screeches. “Open! It was _open_! How was I supposed to know?!”

“Okay, okay.” Dean soothes. “It's okay, it's gonna be okay. Come 'ere.”

“I saw Sam's ass.” Castiel cries, flopping down onto the bed next to Dean. “It was horrible!”

“I know, I know. Shh. It's gonna be okay. We'll get you a therapist.”

Castiel buries his face in Dean's chest. “Don't make fun of me.”

“I'm not makin' fun of you. I've seen Sam's ass, I know how traumatizing it is.”

 

“So, are you like living here now?” Sam asks him later on. They're in the kitchen and Castiel is determinedly avoiding his eye.

“No.” He says.

“Oh. 'Cause, like, your toothbrush is in the bathroom, and you've got like three pairs of shoes by the door, and I _know_ that that pomegranate shampoo isn't Dean's. A lot of your stuff is here, man.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe you should be living here.”

“I doubt Dean would want me living here.”

“From what I can tell, you're here a lot already.”

Castiel sighs. “Well, Gabriel starting dating that girl Kali and they're always at his apartment being gross, so...”

“So you should live here.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he does sort of wish he lived here with Dean.

 

Two weeks later, Dean asks Castiel if he wants to move in.

 

 

 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on writing a story with the same name and putting it on Wattpad. I'll be the same basic idea (kid has near death experience, leaves home to experience life) but other than that it's a completely different story. Different characters, different plot/subplots etc.  
> So if you're interested in that at all, i'll be posting it on my tumblr as soon as I post the first chapter.  
> Feel free to talk to me on tumblr!  
> Thank you guys so much for sticking with me!

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/)


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